Of Soufflès and Bow Ties
by claraoswelve
Summary: A collection of Whouffle one-shots, varying from hurt/comfort, angst, sick!fics, or just general fluffiness. ***Prompting Closed as of November 15th***
1. Drunk in Love

**A/N: Well, I'm almost finished with ****_Head In The Clouds,_**** so I thought I may as well go ahead and start a new fic :) The summary pretty much explains it all, but this will simply be a long-running collection of Whouffle one-shots. If you've read any of my other fics, you know my love for h/c, so there will be a lot of that. Also expect some angst, adventure, and of course, plenty of fluff ;) **

**I only have so many ideas of my own, so please send me tons of prompts! **

* * *

><p><em>Drunk in Love<br>_

The Doctor spun Clara in a tight circle, admiring the way her dancing feet moved and her long red dress flowed with each twirl.

"Who knew you could dance?" Clara exclaimed, giggling as she was flung into the Doctor's arms, then back out again. Her long brunet hair whipped back and forth, temporarily blinding the Doctor each time it was swept in front of his face.

"Could say the same thing about you!" He smiled brightly, letting go of Clara's hand to do a couple embarrassing, failing spins, before grasping it again with a light blush and continuing their dance.

The song came to an end, and the Doctor laughed in triumph. He put an arm around Clara's shoulders, who was still giggling excitedly as they strolled up to the bar.

"That was fun." She mused, sweaty and out of breath as she took her seat.

"Oh that? That was nothing. Wait until I take you to Tyrinox. Their dance competitions _literally _sweep you off your feet...but that's solely due to the anti-grav night clubs come to think of it." He tapped his chin in thought. "Oh well! Care for a drink?"

Clara furrowed her eyebrows in contemplation for a moment, before perking up. "Suppose so. Been a while since I've had a nice Pinot Grigio."

"What do you mean by a while?" The Doctor questioned.

She just shrugged. "Dunno. Not like it matters, though."

The bartender strolled up from behind the counter, flannel draped over his shoulder and a friendly look in his eye. "Hello! What can I get you lovely couple this evening?"

"Oh, we're not-" Clara began, but then just exchanged an amused glance with the Doctor and left it at that. "I'll have a Pinot Grigio...or Noir. Been a while. Surprise me." She winked

"Of course." His teeth nearly seemed to literally sparkle as he flashed her a grin. "And for the gentleman?"

"I'm all right. Thanks." The bartender nodded before vanishing into a separate room.

"Seems nice." Clara acknowledge, relaxing back in her chair.

"If you like." The Doctor sipped at a glass of water.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I wouldn't trust the men here. They tend to be a bit...wooing."

"Wooing?" She couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Yes! They'll hit on any pretty girl that comes their way. And will do whatever it takes to get them into bed." He muttered angrily.

"You're too judgmental." As if just to make him mad, she smiled at and tipped the bartender as he returned with her wine. As soon as she took the first sip, she nearly spit it out as realisation washed over her. She looked at the Doctor with sparkling eyes. "Did you just call me pretty?"

"No! What? Of course I didn't!" He straightened his bow-tie defensively, glancing around awkwardly.

Clara just smiled and continued to sip at her large glass.

A few moments later, the Doctor was being swarmed by various women, begging for a dance. After earning a nod of permission from Clara...not that he needed her permission...he skidded off to take part in various dance moves, favouring his 'drunk giraffe' dance more than anything.

Clara laughed as she watched him twirl and smile, realising a moment later that she'd already nearly finished her wine. Head feeling a bit woozy, she set down her glass and took a few deep breaths.

Only Minutes later she found herself dizzy and lightheaded, and finding every tiniest thing overly amusing. She giggled at the simple sight of the bartender approaching, hair ruffled and nice and a smirk on his lips.

"Where's your friend?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh he's..." She lowered her head in thought. "Hmm...don't remember." She giggled, sipping at her wine once again. "Oh well."

"I'm Kaelin by the way." The bartender told her with a slight bow. "And might I say, you're looking unexceptionably sexy this evening?"

"Oh?" Clara raised her eyebrows, a smile painted on her face.

Kaelin strolled out from behind the bar, walking up to Clara with an admirable stride until he was standing quite close. "Oh yes." He placed a hand on the counter, leaning in closer. "Very." As he leaned in for a kiss, Clara raised her glass to her lips, covering the lipstick stain with a fresh coat as she down the rest of her drink. After lowering it, she slammed it down on the table with a shake of her head, and raised her eyes to Kaelin. He took that as a good sign, and leaned in further, crashing his lips into hers. Clara didn't even have time to react as she felt his lips vanishing, looking up to see the man pulled backwards by large hands.

"Don't try anything like that again." The Doctor warned, grasping Kaelin's jacket and nearly lifting him off his feet. "Or you'll have me to put up with. You hear that?"

Kaelin nodded nervously, tripping over his own feet as he was slung back to the ground, and shuffled away.

"You okay?" The Doctor put his hands on Clara's shoulders, leaning in to get a good look at her eyes. He smelled the thick tang of alcohol in her breath, and saw the disoriented glimmer in her eyes.

"You didn't have to be so mean." She slurred, raising her glass for another sip, despite the fact that it was empty. "He was nice. His hair was nice. And he smelled like a tree." She giggled uncontrollably, waving her glass in the air. "I need another one of these!" She called to no one in particular, then slammed it onto the counter again.

"Clara?" He looked at her with concern, lifting her empty wine glass to his nose for a deep sniff. "That bastard increased the alcohol contents. A lot. I _told _you these people would do anything to take advantage of you." He scowled as he saw Clara looking through him, not really paying attention.

Her eyes flickered from him, to the glass, and back again. "You gonna get me some more wine or not!?"

"I'm gonna go with 'or not'." He sighed. "Come on. Let's get back to the TARDIS."

"But she doesn't like me!" Clara complained, voice raised to an annoying volume, then fell again as she looked up into the Doctor's eyes. She smiled, grabbing his large chin and swinging his head back and forth. "Chin boyyyy!" She broke into another fit of laughter.

The Doctor frowned and grabbed her hand delicately, lowering it back down. He put an arm around her shoulders, coaxing her off the chair.

"Ugh, Doctor, I told you no more carousel rides! The spinning makes me dizzy!" She whined, rolling her head around and around. "Whoa."

"Clara, come on." He felt her slouch against him, unable to remain steady on her high-heeled feet as they exited the club.

"Wheeeee!" He was nearly dragging her by now, simply inflicting more giggles.

"Okay. Perhaps he put a bit more alcohol in your drink than I thought." The Doctor sighed, smiling in relief as the TARDIS came into view. "Almost there." He promised.

"THE SKY HAS CHICKEN POX!" She froze, standing with wide eyes and a slacked jaw at the star-filled sky.

"No, Clara. Those are stars." He couldn't help but laugh a tiny bit. "Come along."

Clara started walking again, but it wasn't until they arrived at the TARDIS doors that her stare dropped from the sky and back down to reality. The Doctor wrapped his arm protectively around her waist, leading her inside.

"You see the way she looks at me?" She crossed her arms, staring up at the ceiling and breaking stride once again.

"Oh, that's it." The Doctor lifted each of her legs to peel off her red heels, then put both hands under her and swept her into his arms.

Clara smiled brightly and threw her arms around his neck, laughing the entire journey to her bedroom. Resting her head against the Doctor chest, she allowed him to lay her down on her bed, and lower her head down to the soft pillow.

The Doctor sat down on the side of the bed, pulling the duvet up to her shoulders. Brushing his fingers against her cheek, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Get some sleep."

Her eyes were already fluttering closed, a soft smile on her lips as she drifted into sleep.

**A/N: Not all chapters will be this long, by the way. And I'm probably gonna make this one into two parts :)**

**Don't forget to review and send me prompts!**


	2. Drunk in Love - Part 2

_Drunk In Love (Part 2)_

The Doctor was waiting for her in the bedroom doorway when Clara woke up. Instead of being met with a greeting, she gave a pained groan, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching her head.

"Did I get hit by a bus?" She whispered.

The Doctor couldn't hold back a small laugh, making his way across the bedroom until he was seated at her bedside. "You were drunk as hell last night."

"Damn that Kaelin." She muttered, sitting up slowly only to end up leaning forward and clutching her head again. "Never. Let me. Drink. Again."

"Whatever you say, boss." He gave her a sympathetic smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, coaxing her out of bed. "C'mon."

Clara groaned in resistance, but was too exhausted to put up any real argument. She allowed him to stand her up, keeping an arm around her waist as they walked together out of the room.

"Got anything that can kill a nasty hangover?" She questioned hopefully, but the Doctor just shook his head with regret.

"Sorry. Just gonna have to ride this one out, I'm afraid."

"Asprin? Anything."

"Don't have any. I'm allergic." His smile faltered in apology. "S'alright, though. It'll wear off in a few hours!"

Clara just let out a disgruntled sigh and plopped into the jump seat. "Fat lot of good you are."

"Oi." He pouted. "At least you've got someone to put up with your crankiness!"

"Hm." She just curled up into a tight ball, laying sideways across the tiny space that the seat allowed.

The Doctor sighed with a shadow of a smile and seated himself beside her. He wrapped his hands under her shoulders and lifted her head up into his lap. Clara didn't protest, just cuddled up closely to him. She let out a content sigh as his fingers began combing through her hair.

"Weird for you." She muttered.

"Hmm?"

"All...domestic." She let out a soft giggle.

"Well, when someone I care about needs a friend to look after them," He gently tilted her head until her eyes met his. "I'm happy to volunteer. Domestic or not." He furrowed his non-existent eyebrows. "And whether the original reason for said someone needs to be looked after is totally ridiculous...or not."

"Oi." She punched his arm affectionately, her scowl fading to a smile. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Bein' that friend." Her head relaxed back into his lap, and the Doctor wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

"My pleasure."


	3. Kidnapping in London

**A/N: Ok if any of you are following me on Tumblr then you witnessed my 2 hour long Whouffaldi fangirl attack  
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**See you all in therapy**

_Kidnapping in London_

The TARDIS was parked outside of the Maitland household, but the one inhabitant wasn't quite ready to reveal himself just yet. He had to talk to her, and he knew she'd be able to handle it, but it wasn't an easy conversation to have. But he had to do it. It was the only way he could keep her safe.

The Doctor exited the blue wooden doors with a sigh and was greeted upon doing so. Clara stood only metres away, an excited grin upon her face as she ran up to her friend, throwing her arms around him in a welcoming hug.

He returned the embrace, burying his face in the thick, luscious waterfall that was her beautiful brunet hair. "Clara," He began breaking the hug to look at her with eyes full of regret. Clara smile immediately faltered, contorting into a concerned frown as she saw that all too recognizable expression.

"What's wrong?" She questioned, squeezing his arm in absentminded comfort.

The Doctor lowered his gaze to the ground, taking a sudden interest in his shoes, before looking back up moments later. "Clara, you trust me don't you?"

"Of course I do." Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"And you know that every decision I make, everything that I do that you might not like, is because I'm trying to do what's best for you, right?"

Clara nodded sadly, already catching on to his foreshadowing tone. "Yes."

"Then," He sighed. "We need to part for a while."

"Why?" She demanded, but not unkindly.

"An old...old...er...friend of mine...he's back. And, well, Clara he's dangerous."

"Sounds like one hell of a friend." She chuckled.

"He's dangerous." His voice hardened. "And he's always gotten to me through the people closest to me. He always wins...even when he loses, he wins. And my friends always seem to pay the price-" The emotion with apparent in his words. "And I can't let that happen. I can't put you in danger...not while he's still around."

Clara drew in a shuddering breath, and brought her searing gaze to his, "All right."

His eyes lit up in surprise. "Really?"

"I trust you." She grabbed his hand, holding it tightly between both of hers. "And I know you're just tryin' to keep me safe." She gave him a soft smile, then poked him in the chest. "Just keep this body safe, all right?"

The Doctor still seemed surprise, but affection and admiration was flowing throughout him. He wrapped Clara in a tight hug. "Thank you for understanding. It's just for a while. I'll be back for you, I promise."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that." A far...far too familiar voice came from not far away. Walking towards them, a confident stride, a smirk on his lips, bleached blonde hair, and a large device on his wrist all wrapped up into one...was the Master.

"No." The Doctor glared at him, shoving Clara protectively behind himself. "Leave."

"Not without what I came for." The Master laughed, fiddling with the device strapped to his arm that almost looked like an impossibly large watch. "I need you for something. No use in putting up a fight, just come along, and no one will get hurt. For now at least!"

The Doctor closed his eyes, releasing Clara and taking a step forward. "I'll go with you. Just leave everyone else alone."

"Shut up, you git. I was talking to the girl."

Clara peered around the Doctor with wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Hello!" He waved.

"_Not _happening." The Doctor started backing away, ushering Clara along with him. "Into the TARDIS." He hissed. "Now." But as the two spun around in attempt to open the doors, a figure stood in their way, sending them reeling back in shock.

"Not, so, fast." The Master warned, waggling a finger in their direction. "Now. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Just hand your friend over and we can all walk away happy, or force me to take her, and you will be left slightly less happy."

"No!" The Doctor shouted back. Clara just gave the Master an unbelieving stare, a mixture of fright, anxiety, and oddly enough, curiosity lingering in her eyes.

"Fine. The hard way it is then." The Master smiled brightly and mischievously diving forward and knocking the Doctor out of the way. With a smirk, he grabbed Clara's wrist. "See ya!" He pressed a button on his watch, and the two went shimmering from sight.

"CLARA!" The Doctor cried, falling to his knees where she'd been just a moment before. He curled his fingers around the long blades of green grass, feeling like screaming with his building frustration. Suddenly, realisation dawned upon him, and he stood up so quick his head pounded from the rapid movement. He practically threw himself through the TARDIS doors, immediately rushing down the hall until he found his favourtie cupboard. After digging for minutes that felt like hours, he found what he was looking for.

"I'm coming for you, Clara."

**A/N: Posting this in two parts bc I need to spend tonight coping with my Whouffaldi emotions.**

**Review!**


	4. Kidnapping in London - Part 2

**A/N: To the Guest that sent me the prompt about the Pinkwald fic:**

**I'm not a huge shipper of Pinkwald. Plus, this is a collection of Whouffle one-shots, so I prefer to keep each fic following that same pattern :) I like the idea of the fic though! I may make it into a separate one-shot if I have the time.**

**As for your second prompt, that's right up my alley! I've got one more pending fic after this one, so I should have yours up in about 2 days or so :D**

_Kidnapping in London (Part 2)  
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The Doctor hit the ground with a thud, wincing as pain shot through his body. He looked up and around, bracing his hands on the stoney floor and hopped up to his feet. He spun a complete circle, taking in his surroundings, but to no avail. He had no clue where he was.

"Clara!?" He called out hopefully, but wasn't surprised when her sweet, most likely frightened voice never echoed back.

The Doctor charged down the corridor, peaking into every room, every nook, every cranny, and constantly shouting Clara's name.

He came to a halt when his sensitive ears finally picked up the faintest noise. Subtle, barely audible beeping and whirring noises came from a cell down the hall. An eerie green glow shone from the bottom of the door, creating an ominous aura as it was the only form of lighting. He almost hesitantly approached, disappointed when there were no windows, or any way to see what was happening inside.

"Clara?" He banged on the door. After seconds passed with no reply, he settled for unlocking it with his sonic and bursting through with frantic, wide eyes.

"Clara!" She was strapped to a chair in the back of the room, her dazed, glazed over eyes fixed on a television screen in front of her. As soon as the Doctor caught sight of the screen, he felt himself go momentarily numb. Shaking the feeling away, he soniced the TV off, and threw himself to his knees before Clara.

"Hey, I'm here. Told you I'd come for you!" He greeted her happily, beginning to undo her restraints.

But Clara's gaze was still fixed blankly ahead. Her eyes remained trained on the blank television, as if immersed into an edge-of-your-seat show.

"Clara?" The Doctor shook her shoulder lightly. Her head flopped around from the turbulence, but her body remained upright, and her gaze never wavered.

"Clara!" He patted her cheek, waving a hand in front of her. "Clara can you hear me?"

She made no attempt to move.

"There's no use." The Doctor spun around at the voice, and scowled as he saw the Master walked aimlessly towards him, hands clasped behind his back. He made a sound that almost sounded like a growl, stomping up to his enemy and thrusting his hands onto his shoulders.

"What did you do to her!?" He shoved him up against the wall with great force.

The Master just smirked. "Choose your weapon, my dear."

The Doctor tilted his head in confusion, then turned his head to follow the man's gaze. It was fixed on Clara, who had risen from her seat, and was walking with almost robotic movements towards a table in the corner of the room. The table held many items, each causing the Doctor's eyes to grow wide as he caught sight. A knife, a gun, a tazer, a scalpel? Clara's hand drifted over each object with a feather-light touch, under her fingers came in contact with the knife. She clenched it in her right fist, the spun around slowly. Her eyes met the Doctor's with a sinful smile.

But it wasn't a smile the Doctor would have liked. Wasn't that heartfelt, sweet, loving smile that always danced across her face. It was more of warning smile. A smile that whispered a sinister, _run. _

In the Doctor's distracted state, the Master had escaped his grasp, but made no attempt to attack.

"I could kill you right now if I wished." The Master commented, walking circles around the Doctor, who was stiff as a piece of wood. "But that wouldn't be as fun. No. I want you to suffer. Equally physically as much as emotionally."

The Doctor began backing away as Clara slowly started to advance. "Clara...its me." But her stride never broke.

"Have fun!" The Master disappeared from sight.

The Doctor was left with a hypnotic Clara, with one thought placed in her head. _Kill._

"Clara. I know you're still in there." The Doctor went wide eyed as the knife was raised, and backed himself into a wall. "Please, just listen to me! I can stop you, but I don't want to hurt you! I won't! Listen to me!"

Clara's left hand came to grasp the front of his neck, while the other hovered the knife in front of his face. A bit like a warning shot, the knife shot out in front of her, slicing below the Doctor's left eye. He winced, but didn't move.

The Doctor could easily get himself out of this position, but was only going to go forward with his plan if he absolutely had to. "Please." He whispered.

But her eyes were full of hate and determination. She was going to kill him.

The Doctor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry." With force that he hated to use, his pushed her away and knocked the knife from her hand. She let out a sort of growl, turning on him, hands flying to his neck.

The Doctor peeled them away with ease. Even in a hypnotic state, Clara was still small. He overpowered her with no difficulty, even in his reluctance. Attempting to be as gentle as he could, he pinned her against the wall, trying to keep her as still as possible as his fingers grazed over her temples.

She flinched back, but he held her steady. "I know I promised I wouldn't do this again, but I have to. I'm sorry." And with the closing of his eyes he dove into her mind.

Maybe seconds passed, maybe minutes, maybe no time at all. The Doctor didn't know as he lifted his eyelids, breaking contact with Clara's face just in time to catch her as she slumped forward into his arms.

"It's all right. "You're all right." He whispered, pulling her into an upright position, and holding her steady until her eyes fluttered open.

"Doctor..." She slumped forward onto him again, but this time out of relief, and the craving need to be wrapped in his embrace. "Doctor I'm so sorry."

"What for?" He questioned with a bit of a laugh. "My fault for letting him near you. But he's gone, and we're both safe." He smiled, brushing some hair out of her eyes and cupping her cheek.

"How'd you get here?" She wondered.

"Vortex Manipulator." He held up his wrist, revealing the dark leather device. "The TARDIS was able to track your location, and this bad boy did the rest!" He glanced around. "But shhh. Kate doesn't realise I already know about the Black Archive."

Clara shook her head, not even caring to ask. "I'm just glad you found me..." Somehow only then did she catch sight of the crimson tears running down his cheek, flowing from a gash below his eye. She closed her eyes and lowered her head in shame. "I'm so sorry."

"Clara, it's okay. He hypnotised you. Twisted your mind into what he wanted it to be. Nothing is your fault. You hear me?"

She solely nodded, raising a hand to wipe the blood away from his face. "Where's that man?"

"He's gone. Not sure where, but he's bound to come back soon." Banging on the metal door echoed in the room. "And, that's our cue!" He extended his hand. "Let's get out of here." And they vanished without a trace.

**A/N: Bit of a dark turn :P Not one of my best fics, but there's only so much I can do in a couple thousand words.**

**Please please send me lots of prompts and reviews!**


	5. Soft Song

**A/N: Thanks to BigHead98 for sending in this prompt! It's a bit short, but I hope you still enjoy :)**

It was was one of those days where Clara had decided to stay the night in the TARDIS. Not for any particular reason, she just quite liked her bedroom on the ship, and enjoyed being able to spend the surrounding evening and morning with the Doctor.

She usually woke up quite late in the day, but this morning she was awake before the sun had fully risen. She wasn't sure what woke her, but regretted that it had. She'd been having the most beautiful dream...

But as she laid beneath the warmth of the covers for seconds more, she realised it hadn't been a dream after all. Drifting down from the end of the corridor, from where specifically, she didn't know, Clara could hear the sweet, soft violin song being played. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she exited her bedroom and began pursuing the beautiful noise.

Her search brought her to a room she'd never seen before. It was simple, a couple chairs, bookshelves and a desk. What it was for, and why she'd never seen it before, she had no idea, but what was even more shocking was the sight that caught her eye near a window in the back.

There stood the Doctor, gazing almost longingly out a window that was no more than a holographic image. And there, positioned between his chin and shoulder, was a violin.

He played the most gorgeous song Clara had ever heard, swaying a bit back and forth with each stroke of his bow. Unaware of her presence, the Doctor played on, immersed into his own little world of music.

Clara watched and listened in adoration as she sat down quietly into one of the soft chairs. But the little sound in result caught the Doctor's sensitive ears, and the music came to an abrupt halt.

He spun around, eyes wide with surprise. "Clara, hi, I was just..." He looked from her, to the instrument, and back again, and flung the item out of sight. "I...er..." He scratched the side of his face awkwardly. "What are you doing up?"

"You woke me." She said, but in no way unkindly. "I didn't know you played the violin."

"Neither did I, until today to be quite honest." He stuck his hands in his pockets, taking sudden interest in the floor.

"You don't have to stop." Clara smiled, reclining the chair and clasping her hands on top of her. "Keep playing?"

The Doctor looked as if he were about to protest, but thought against it. He picked up the instrument, brushed off a few dirt specs, and continued his music.

Clara closed her eyes, smile still on her face. She laid still, fingers tapping to the slow beat of the soft song. For several minutes the Doctor played on, having no intention of stopping anytime soon.

As if she could have fallen for the Doctor even more.

**A/N: Second chapter I've posted today. That's impressive for me O.O I may even post another, but for now I really need to go update my other fic. Just one chapter for that one, then my full attention will be focused here :D**

**Review and prompt!**


	6. Just One

**A/N: Here's another prompt from a guest. You Guests need to make accounts so I can actually recognize you! :P  
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**Real quick, just want to say something about the prompts I'm accepting.  
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**First of all, know that I'm not going to accept all prompts. There are some that simply don't interest me, and I can't ensure that the fic will be good if my heart isn't really into it :) (thatsoundedsappyignorethat)**

**Second of all, I've gotten a few 12th Doctor prompts, and have decided to officially start accepting them :P So yay! Send me some 12 ideas as well as 11 :)**

**P.S. If I go a few chapters without responding/writing a prompt you sent me I'm so so sorry. I'm getting a lot and its hard to keep up, so if I miss one then just send it again :)**

**Okay I'll shut up. Enjoy the story!**

_Just One  
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The Doctor nearly threw his book across the console room in surprise as the TARDIS phone rang. He jumped to his feet with wide eyes, hands raised as if ready to ward off an inevitable attack. After he accepted the fact in was in no immediate danger, he approached slowly and answered the phone.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hello?"

"Doctor?" The slurred, disoriented voice of Clara came from the other line.

The Doctor sighed in relief. Of course it was Clara. Who else would it be? "Yes, hello, Clara!"

"Hi...um..."

"Yes, what is it?"

"I..."

"Spit it out!"

"I'm at the...the um..."

"Clara, what's the matter?" He groaned and rolled his eyes, throwing his head back in annoyance. "Are you drunk again? I was joking about the AA sessions before, but it may be worth looking in to."

"No...its just..I'm not feeling real good...I just had one drink...I don't...I don't know what..."

The Doctor suddenly began to grow worried. "Where are you?"

"The pub..."

"Yes, but which one?"

"I don't even...remember..." Her voice trailed off. "Doctor, I don't like this...can you...come pick me up?"

"I'm tracing your mobile. Just a tick. _Don't _hang up." He fiddled with the monitor with anxious movements, only taking seconds to pinpoint her location. "Okay, I found you." Silence. "Clara?"

"Hmm?"

"Listen, I'm coming. Just stay on the phone. I'm coming for you, all right?"

"'Kay."

He flew the TARDIS to London, letting the information from Clara's mobile lead him to where she was. He swung open the doors, grateful for the longer-on-the-inside cord on his phone. "Hey, I'm here." He assured her. "I'm right outside. I'll be there before you can blink. Okay?"

"I just blinked twice..."

"Oh, shut it." The Doctor threw the phone down, dashing across the street with worried strides until he reached the door of the pub. He slung it open, nearly sending it flying off its hinges, and stepped inside.

He'd never liked the pub. Too many hustlers and gang members. And almost everyone was totally drunk. He'd take a Dalek over a wasted human any day...

And there, seated at her own table in the center of the room, was Clara. She had her elbows planted on the table, and her tiny hands cradling her pounding head. Her eyes were closed, and the Doctor considered the fact that she might be asleep.

"Clara!" He rushed to her side, shaking her shoulder gently. "Clara, wake up."

"Mmm." She muttered, opening her eyes until they rested on his. "Doctor?" She sat up slightly, wincing at the effort of dragging her heavy head.

"Hey, what's the matter?" The Doctor pulled up a chair to sit right in front of her. He reached forward to hold her face in both hands, rubbing his thumb above her eye comfortingly. "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel well..." She muttered, eyes fluttering closed again. Her head grew heavy in his grasp, and he found himself supporting almost all of her weight.

Growing overly concerned, he shifted around so that she could rest comfortably against his shoulder. He picked up her empty glass, and gave it a sniff. His nonexistent eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he detected nothing out of the ordinary.

"Clara, wake up." He patted her cheek, and her eyes opened into thin slits.

"What?"

"I need you to tell me what you're feeling right now." He held her shoulders tightly yet gently, trying to keep her in an upright position in hopes of waking her up. She blinked in confusion, gaze wandering around the room. "Clara." He prompted.

"I feel..." Her head lulled to one side, then bounced back up. "Dunno...dizzy, sleepy..."

That was all he needed. "Come along. Let's get back to the TARDIS. We're getting weird looks." He glanced around, just now noticing the odd stares and muttered he was receiving. "Think you can walk?"

"Mhmm." She blinked again, accepting his outstretched hand and standing up, albeit shakily. Upon doing so, her legs immediately crumpled beneath her, sending her slumping forward into the Doctor's awaiting arms. "Sorry." She slurred.

"It's all right." He hoisted her upright again, wrapping and arm around her waist while the other gripped her hand. Clara's head sagged against his shoulder as they walked, but somehow made it back to the TARDIS with slow but steady steps.

"Here we are!" The Doctor chimed, leading Clara inside. "Just a little further." He promised, setting course for the infirmary.

She didn't respond, just stared ahead blankly as she shuffled at his side.

They arrived at their destination, having taken longer than the Doctor would have liked. Earning no protest, he swept Clara into his arms, and placed her gingerly on the bed. It was a struggle, but she managed to stay sitting up, just as he encouraged.

"Clara, look at me." He insisted in a soft voice. She complied, bringing her weary, glassy eyes to his. The Doctor patted her cheek in thanks. He then noticed that her breathing was beginning to slow, as if she were already asleep. Sighing in defeat, he allowed her to lay down, letting her drift in and out of consciousness as he tried to find out what was wrong. He held one of her hands in his, pressing his fingers onto the underside of her wrist. His concern grew as he felt the rapid, irregular pulse beneath his fingertips. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked, knowing she couldn't really hear him. All signs were pointing to basic tranquilisation, but for that to have happened would have made no sense. Besides, he wasn't optimistic enough to believe that was the only issue.

But the scans and tests he ran proved otherwise. Clara was suffering from nothing more than a sleeping drug. A high dose, yes, but not dangerously so. But why had this happened?

Surely it must have been someone at the pub. Someone must have slipped something into her drink, probably hoping to have the privilege to take home a nice, submitting, pretty girl that night.

Just the thought made the Doctor scowl with anger and protectiveness, but acting on revenge was the last thing he needed to do. What he needed to do now was look after Clara til the drug wore off, then deal with whoever the culprit was.

"It'll be all right." He murmured. By now, she was fast asleep, looking as peaceful and innocent as ever. The Doctor smiled, letting his hand brush over her cheek, then decided she'd be much more comfortable in her own room.

"Come on, you." He lifted her into his arms, carrying her away with smooth strides and loving intentions.

**A/N: Awwww look. Fluffyyyy!**

**Review and prompt!**


	7. Don't Let Him See The Damage

**A/N: Welp, first 12/Clara fic in this collection! I can't find/remember who sent me this prompt, but oh well. Here it is!**

_Hide the Damage_

The bruises covered nearly ever inch of her arms, where she'd thought he'd continue gripping her til her bones snapped.

The redness of her cheek where she'd been slapped stung like fire, and the tiny gash below her eye continued to ache.

Clara laid down on her sofa, face buried into her hands as she allowed herself to cry. Why had he done this...it had been happening quite frequently now. She'd mention the Doctor, she'd tell him about their adventures, and kept nothing from him. But still, Danny Pink felt like she was hiding something. Still thought that Clara might have hidden feelings for this mysterious Time Lord from the stars. And when she tried to tell him otherwise, he wouldn't accept her answer.

He'd take all his anger and frustration out on Clara with a flurry of flying hands. He'd slap, grip, and occasionally even punch after most conversations that had anything to do with the Doctor. Each time, they'd both break down into tears, and he'd beg Clara to forgive him. Beg her not to leave him, because he loved her. And each time, Clara would give into those sad, hurt, apologetic eyes, kiss him deeply, and tell him he was forgiven.

It had been happening on repeat. More often that it should, another set of bruises was added to her collection. But Danny always seemed to win her over.

When Clara heard the wheezing, screeching sound of the TARDIS engines, she sat up with a start. Wiping her eyes and her reddened cheeks with her sleeve, she jumped to her feet and dashed over to her mirror. Combing her fingers through her hair and wiping away a bit of stray makeup from her face. She hoped she looked presentable enough instead of worn down and hurt.

The TARDIS landed right in the middle of the flat. She didn't feel like leaving, but knew that she'd be thoroughly questioned if she told the Doctor. So she just stood before the doors, pulled down her sleeves as much as she could, and stepped in with a cheery smile painted on her face.

"Ah, Clara!" The Doctor greeted her from around the console. "I need you for a thing. Well, I suppose I don't need you, more like I want you for a thing."

"Sounds good." She said simply, remaining hidden from his vision by the central column.

"The Satanic Nebula!" He exclaimed. "Never got to go there. Quite fascinating, actually."

"Okay." Clara didn't mean for her tone to be so quiet, and cleared her throat in hopes of fixing it.

"You've never been so quiet." He complained, extending his hand towards the final lever. But as he leaned over to reach the control, he caught sight of Clara's face. "What's up with your eyes? They've gone all weird and droopy."

"N-nothing." She protested, crossing her arms. "Come on. Let's get going."

"You're not really acting like yourself." He said a bit hesitantly, and a bit awkwardly. His eyes widened slightly as he took in full notice of the bruise covering her cheek. He stepped forward. "What happened?" He extended a hand with intentions of examining the injury, but Clara shied away.

"Had to break up a fight at school today. Wasn't a fun process." She stammered, faking a smile.

"Today's Saturday." The Doctor countered, peering at the monitor to double-check. "Yep, Saturday. No school today."

"Oh. Yesterday I mean."

But he knew her all to well. Not only did he know when she was hiding something, but when she was hurt. Sometimes more emotionally than physically.

So he stepped forward until they were just inches apart, looking down into her eyes with a piercing stare. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No!" She insisted.

"Did _he _hurt you?" The Doctor scowled, subconsciously clenching his fists.

"No, Doctor. It was nothing like that...I'm okay." Her hands played with each other nervously as she took an anxious step back. She made to stick them in her pockets, but the action caused her sleeves to expose her wrists, and she quickly pulled them back down.

The Doctor almost let out a sort of growl as he snatched her hand, pulling up her sleeve to take sight in the dark, purple bruises running up her arm. Clara tried to pull away, but he held her firmly as he repeated the process on her other arm. And just the same, there were markings there too.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Was the only thing he could think to say, his voice dark, sinister, and full of anger.

Clara pulled back, and this time he let go. She considered lying again. The Doctor could be quite gullible. But there was no point. He was her friend, a protective one at that, and she supposed he had a right to know. Still, she couldn't seem to form a coherent word, and just shrugged.

"It was P.E. wasn't it?" He demanded.

"Yes." She let out a shaky sigh, not bothering to correct him on Danny's school position.

The Doctor's thick brow creased in anger and determination. He was too shocked and upset to try and say anything else.

"Please don't get mad. At me or him. We're working it out."

"Working it out? _Working it out_!? Clara, this isn't working anything out!"

"He apologises!" She shouted. "He's truly, genuinely sorry!"

"No. If he were truly sorry, he wouldn't do this to you." The Doctor closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long has this been going on?" He demanded.

It was the question Clara had been dreading. "Started shortly after you left the school, so...about a month." She stumbled over her words, watching the Doctor's twisted expression.

"A month." He slammed his fist down onto his thigh in frustration. "AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?"

"I'm sorry." Clara tried to suck the silently falling tears back into her eyes, but she couldn't. "I really am."

"Did you think I wouldn't be able to help? Because I could, Clara. I could have helped."

"And how would you have done that?" She countered. "Doctor, to be quite honest, your anger issues have gotten much worse since you regenerated."

"You say that as if its a bad thing."

"It's a bad thing, because _helping _to you would probably involve hurting him!"

"Clara, after what he did to you, that's what he _deserves._" He insisted.

"No. It's not. No one deserves that."

"_You _didn't deserve that." A flicker of emotion shone in his eyes.

"Let me handle it. Please." She begged. "I'm going over to his place tonight. I'll talk to him...just promise you'll leave it to me."

"But..."

"No, Doctor." Clara crossed her arms, staring into his hurt eyes. "Promise me."

He sighed. "Fine." Clara nodded, and made her way to the doors. Shortly after exiting, the Doctor spun around to the console, bracing his hands on the edge with a furious look in his eye.

"Rule number one..." He hissed. "The Doctor lies."

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><p>He didn't hesitate. He didn't bother to. He had a thought fixed in his mind, one that would never vanquish his anger. And he had to act upon it.<p>

The Doctor burst through the door with great force, and just in time too. He froze in his tracks, fists clenching at his sides, and it took every ounce of the small amount of self control his contained, not to storm right up and plummet the pudding brain's face right then and there.

In the middle of the living room, pinned up against the wall, was a crying Clara. Gripping her shoulders with unforgivable roughness, was Danny Pink.

"Danny, this has gone too far!" She shouted desperately. "You're hurting me! Stop it!" Somehow neither of them had noticed the Doctor's entrance.

"I'm hurting you? _I'm _hurting _you_? What about the pain I'm constantly having to go through each day?! You say you love me, but I know it's just a lie to cover up how you feel about him!" He slapped her. Hard.

"Danny, stop! You're overreacting way too much."

"I'm what?" He laughed. "I don't think so."

"But Danny..."

"ENOUGH!" The Doctor's dark, sinful voice boomed from the entrance. He literally stomped up to Danny, confidence and anger in his strides, and pulled him away from Clara with unexpected strength. "You get the _hell _away from her, and you leave her the _hell _ alone!"

"You see?" Danny stood up, but kept his distance. "He'd only be freaking out like that if you two shared something!"

"Danny, we share way more than you and I ever could." She slumped against the wall with exhaustion, wiping the tears from her face with her palm. "I promised to stay with you, but only if you got better. This is horrible, Danny. You don't love me. If you did, you wouldn't be doing this."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." The Doctor hissed, not bothering to be concerned with their previously blocked intimacy as he wrapped an arm around Clara's shoulders, pulling her close to him and backing away.

"This proves it all." Danny muttered.

"Maybe it does. But that doesn't matter." He led the trembling Clara to the door, glancing back once more before exiting.

"All that matters, is that as long as I'm alive, you will _never _hurt her again."

**A/N: Send me prompts and please review!**


	8. And Still I Fall

**A/N: Okay, first off, just wanna apologize for failing to put a warning on the last chapter. It seems to have bothered a few people how dark it was .-. I'll put warnings down from now on :)  
><strong>

**Thanks to TheBigCat for another prompt! **

**[12] (This will indicate at the beginning of each chapter whether its an 11th Doctor or 12th Doctor fic :) )**

_And Still I Fall_

The TARDIS materialised in the middle of the flat with a thud and a whir. Papers flew about, curtains flailed, and dogs barked. The Doctor flung himself outside. "Clara, what's taking you so...whoops...4 a.m. not p.m.. You humans and your sleep cycles." He let out an exasperated sigh. "I'll be back!"

But as he turned to leave he heard a low, rumbling, distressed noise drifting from a room beyond. It was like a soft, harmonic whistle in a way. The rhythmic beat of the sound sending chills down his spine. But as his sensitive ears strained to listen, the sound was what he recognised as, no longer a song, but as the emotion-raging pinging of a young woman sobbing.

The Doctor furrowed his thick brow in a moment's confusion...surely that couldn't be Clara? Surely that couldn't be the tough, stubborn little mule of a girl, actually crying...with actual tears... He pursued, taking slow, tentative steps into the hallway. As he reached the bedroom door he considered turning back. After all, what could he do, anyways? Hormonal women had always been his weak point. He'd hover at their side awkwardly, not knowing whether to stay and attempt his version of comfort, or to leave them to suffer in peace. The latter always ended up working out the best...kept him from having to risk breaching the distance he demanded to keep.

But the hand already gripping the door knob had already appeared to have made up it's mind. It pushed the ajar door fully open, leaving the Doctor no option but to take a step in. He shook his head, buttoned the top button of his jacket, and prepared himself for an awkward meeting. "Clara?"

But what he saw wasn't what he was expecting. Instead of seeing a hunched over, face-buried-in-hands, sobbing Clara, what he saw was the sight of her eyes closed, and her head resting shakily on her pillow. Her face was drenched with sweat, her hands clenched tightly around the damp bedsheets, and her head tossed and turn from side to side. Soft, barely audible gasps escaped her lips, and hot, fresh tears left streaks down her pallid cheeks.

She was having a nightmare. Which meant she was okay, didn't it? The Doctor could just walk away, escape back to his TARDIS without a trace. She'd never know he was there.

But once again, his limbs seemed to have minds of their own. His feet slowly inched closer and closer to her bedside, and the Doctor settled for succumbing to the pursuing thoughts.

"C..." He cleared his throat nervously. "Clara?"

She didn't wake. Her eyelids did no more than flutter lightly, and her distressed cries simply grew stronger.

"Clara." His voice hardened a degree. He walked a little closer, trying to block the side of his brain that was filling with concern. "Clara!"

She tossed and turned, tears flowing freely, but still never woke.

The Doctor sighed in frustration, hand lingering above her for a moment as he denied himself any contact. But that denial was brief. He grabbed her shoulder, shaking it roughly yet gently. "Clara, you silly girl, wake up!"

Alas, her eyes shot open. Her breath came out in deep gasps, her hands trembling at her sides. Her gaze wandered about the room in confusion, and her eyebrows raised in surprise as it came to rest on the man hovering at her bedside. "Doctor?"

He immediately jerked his hand away, sticking both appendages in his pockets as if nothing had happened. "You were having a nightmare. And being quite loud, actually. It was a bit annoying."

Unfazed by the jarring comment, Clara sat up. Leaning her back against the headboard, she wiped a hand over her sweaty brow. "Yeah, I know that part."

This was usually the part where he ran away. Vanished before the awkwardness grew to an unbearable degree. But for some reason, his feet weren't inching to move. Weren't desperate to flee, no intentions of returning. Something about Clara kept them in place. "What was the dream about?" He dared to ask.

Clara replied indirectly, giving him an odd look. "Why are you here?"

"Got the time wrong." He said simply. "Heard you cry out and wanted to make sure you weren't being abducted by Cybermen. But you were just dreaming." He shrugged. "Honest mistake."

She gave him a shadow of a smile, then her eyes drifted back towards nothing. She was obviously still shaken from her dream.

"What was your dream about?" The Doctor repeated, officially, slightly, maybe just a little bit interested.

Clara opened her mouth to speak, but just shut it again with the close of her eyes, and the shake of her head. "Doesn't matter."

"You can tell me, you know." His hands twitched at his sides. This was the awkward part he strived to avoid.

"I still..." The hesitation she was feeling was apparent. Her voice trembled as she poke. "I still dream about...about _them_."

"Who?"

"Them...the echoes." She looked away, taking sudden interest in the window. "My other lives."

The Doctor was not only surprised, shocked, and admittedly a little bit annoyed. But most of all he was feeling confusion.

"And why didn't you ever tell me? That happened forever ago."

"You're not exactly easy to speak to about these things." She retorted, shooting him a glare.

"But even before...before I changed. I sure as hell had to have been easy to speak to then." He gave her a smirking sort of grin. "I mean, that face."

"Suppose I just didn't want to bother you." She waved a hand in his direction, yawning in the process. "You can go now. I'm fine."

"How often do you dream about them?" He prompted, ignoring her dismissal.

"Often enough." She sighed and laid back down again. Turning her back to the Doctor, pulling her duvet up to her shoulders, she said no more.

The Doctor took the hint, and shuffled his feet backwards. He was almost out the door...so close...just a little bit farther...but then he stopped. No, it wasn't his feet this time. It was his conscious mind made up.

"I can help." He blurted suddenly.

He heard Clara groan in frustration, flipping over onto her opposite side so she could meet his gaze. She spoke nothing more than an uninterested, "What?"

"The nightmares...the memories...I can stop them." He cleared his throat again, using it to block the awkward bouts of silence that kept seeming to reoccur.

Clara's eyes drifted away in apparent thought, and she raised an eyebrow questioningly. "How?"

"Telepathic Time Lord." He said with a scoff, waggling his fingers in mid air.

"So you mean...you'd be inside my mind..." She was seeming less and less willing.

"Yup!"

But her mind dove into deep thought again. She sat up, bracing her arms on either side of her, and met the Doctor's eyes once again with an almost unbelieving, yet hopeful look. "You can...stop the nightmares..." It was more of a clarification than a question.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Listen, if you don't want my help than I'm wasting my time here. Yes, I can stop the nightmares. Give you an induced sleep as well. Something tells me that you've not had a well night's rest in a _long _while."

"Oi!"

"Just saying."

Clara sighed, gaze fixed on the floor, but only briefly. She provided him with a small, slightly aggravated smile. "Just...don't kill me or anything."

"I'd never." In a few long, swift strides, he plopped himself on his edge of the bed. "Well I can't reach you all the way from over there! Get over here."

She let out a small laugh and threw the covers off her legs. The bare limbs automatically chilling as they were snagged by the cold air, she rubbed at them with a shudder before sitting at the Doctor's side. She turned her head to face him, an almost nervous look in her eye.

"Ready?" He shifted so that he was fully facing her, open hands and long, outstretched bony fingers hovering before her face.

Clara drew in a shaky breath, briefly considering backing out. But she knew that the Doctor would be careful, and that if she ever wanted a peaceful night again, this moment was necessary. "Yes." She nodded slightly, and watched warily as his hands made contact with her face.

His fingers on her temples were cold and strange. Having felt so little contact with him before, the touch was foreign. Different, and somehow extremely unexpected.

But she was only able to dwell on the thoughts for a moment more. Her mind went blank, her eyes fluttered closed, and she was swept into unconsciousness.

The Doctor gasped in slight surprise as Clara slumped forward onto him. Her forehead braced against his chest, and her hands dangling loosely at her sides. The Doctor's arms stretched out on either side of him, hands splayed out as he refused to touch her anymore than he had to. But the position was growing quite uncomfortable, for him just as much as Clara.

With a sigh of defeat, he grabbed each of her shoulders with stiff hands, peeling her off of him. Her head lulled back uncomfortable, and the Doctor placed a hand on the underside, gently lowering it down onto her pillow. Now half on the bed, half off, Clara's outstretched limbs made her look quite hilarious. After taking a moment to spare himself a laugh. He lifted her legs onto the bed, pulled the duvet up to her chin, and placed a hand on her shoulder as he stood up.

"Sweet dreams, Clara."

**A/N: I need more fluffy h/c prompts! (_emphasis on the fluff_)**


	9. Worth It

**A/N: Wow. Lot of prompts on my list now :D  
><strong>

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><p><em><strong>It'll Be Worth It<strong>_

**Prompt: (Guest)**

** - **_Clara is pregnant (not very, maybe 2 months?) and has really bad morning sickness and cramps as a result of the cross species- pregnancy and 11 tries to comfort her with some cuddling _  
><em> -Clara goes into labor and the doctor (11) goes back in time (before Rory and Amy started their companionship) and take her to Rory bc that's who he trusts most to deliver the baby<em>

**Note: **I'm gonna make this one fic, but split it into two chapters :)

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

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><p>"Wrong, wrong, and oh, would you look at that! That's wrong too." Silly humans and there books. Nothing was accurate. Did they just make up all the information as they went along, put it in a book with a fancy cover and say they knew what they were talking about? The Doctor shook his head. It wouldn't surprise him. Humans were funny. Different. And quite strange. Each of them different in their own individual way, yet at the same time, completely the same. They all had their flaws<em> - <em>and there were a lot of them - and they all had their perks. Funny little humans. He was never bored around them.

There was one specific human, though. One little human in all of existence that the Doctor was not only entertained by, but actually thoroughly _enjoyed _her presence.

And that human was his Clara. Always brave, always funny, always exactly what he needed.

It had taken him far too long to reveal how he truly felt about the small girl, but after he had then things just flowed like a river from there. Of course, there were countless complications. But love isn't turning away when things get hard. It's the ability to still love that person, no matter how hard things get.

And the fact that an alien and a human were having a baby wasn't even all of their problems. In fact, he wouldn't consider it a problem at all. But his heart's twisted, his stomach clenched, and he winced in sympathy at the uncomfortable stage that Clara was still going through.

The Doctor picked up his speed down the corridor a bit as he heard the sob-filled retching drifting from the nearest bathroom. The morning sickness had started for Clara a while ago, now, and she couldn't be in more discomfort. The Doctor could only imagine what it felt like to go through the same routine almost ever morning.

He reached the doorway, automatically lowering his head, almost apologetically as he leaned on the doorframe. "Again?"

Clara, a cold sweat dripping down her face, leaned up against the bathtub with her face buried in her clammy hands. She solely nodded, moving her arms to wrap around her stomach as the waves of pain continued.

"Clara..." The Doctor inched his way closer, kneeling at her side. "Hey, you all right?"

"Yep." She muttered, lifting her head to give him a weak smile.

He brushed some sweaty strands of hair out of her face, admiring how her soft brown curls fell down over her shoulders and down the length of her back. He seated himself next to her, wrapping a lankly arm around her small frame, pulling her close.

Clara let out a sigh of contentment, letting eyes flutter closed as she leaned into the Doctor's shoulder. His free hand combed through her hair, sending comforting chills down her spine.

"It'll be worth it." She mumbled more to herself than to the Doctor, needing to here those encouraging words no matter who they came from.

"It most certainly will." He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head before standing up. "Still feeling sick?"

"Nah. Think I'm okay for now."

The Doctor nodded in approval and crouched down. Clara let out a little squeal of surprise as she was hauled into his arms, but it faded into a happy giggle not long after. She curled up against the Doctor's chest, and protested no more as she was carried to their shared bedroom.

"Much better than a bathroom floor!" The Doctor piped, falling back onto the bed with Clara still held closely in his arms. Clara let out a soft _oof _as she fell on top of him, rolling off with a laugh as she took her own spot on the bed.

"Agreed." She rested her head on the softest pillow, closing her eyes and embracing the warmth.

"Don't hog it!" The Doctor protested, shifting her over a bit so he could share. His head rested beside hers, their faces only inches apart. He placed a hand on her cheek, smiling with the warmest, most beautiful green eyes. Their foreheads connected, and then their lips, dancing freely with admiration as they were enveloped into the softest brief kiss.

Clara was the first to break apart returning the brightest of smiles. The Doctor rolled onto his back, his head still facing Clara, and beckoned her closer. Grabbing his hand, she cocooned into his side, her head resting on his chest. The duvet was pulled over the both of them, Clara's eyelids fluttered closed, and she was soothed to sleep by the soft beating of hearts.

**A/N: Fluff fluff fluff HEY LOOK more fluff 3**

**Review and send me some more h/c prompts!**


	10. Worth It - Part 2

_**Worth It - Part 2**_

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><p>The contractions had started earlier that morning. The cries of anguish had started soon after. Clara ached with every strengthened pulse of searing pain that ripped through her body, and all the Doctor could do was hurtfully watch, trying to provide her with a small deal of comfort while he simultaneously steered the TARDIS.<p>

"Hang in there." He seated her in the jump seat, kissed her forehead, and focused his remaining sanity on getting them to their destination without crashing.

"Where're we going?" Clara managed to grunt out between pants.

The Doctor smiled in triumph as they were set on the proper course. He pressed a button, pulled a lever, and they wen spiralling off. "Leadworth!"

"Leadworth? Why there?"

"Let's just say I want to make sure you're in good hands." The TARDIS landed with a _thud _only a split second later. "Come on!"

"Hurry!" Clara cried out despairingly as the Doctor slipped an arm around her shoulders. She staggered out the TARDIS doors alongside him, leaning heavily in exhaustion. When they exited, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the bright white surroundings.

"Shortcut!" He shouted victoriously. The TARDIS landed directly in the delivery room of Leadworth Hospital, and for a minute the Doctor contemplated on whether or not to move it. But Clara's pleas were growing more and more desperate. There was no time. Carrying most of her weight by now, the Doctor led her to the bed, gently coaxing her to relax. He crouched until he was eye level with the trembling girl, and put a hand on her cheek. "I'll be _right _back. I'm just gonna go find someone real quick. All right?"

"Don't be long..." She grunted out, lying back on the bed with a pained sigh.

The Doctor smiled at her and darted out of the room with a speed he didn't know he possessed. It took him a considerable amount of time to find who he was looking for...a bit too long than he could have liked. But he found him.

He just stared at the young man for a moment, emotions and pained feelings gripping at his hearts. The simple sight of this man's face brought back so many memories...memories he didn't have time to dwell on. With a shake of his head, he dashed forward, hollering all the way. "Rory!"

Rory spun around, taking a couple surprised steps backwards as he caught sight of the stranger rushing towards him. "Uh, yes?"

"I need you. Don't ask questions, just deliver my girlfriend's child. Which may or may not have a _slight _internal resemblance to an alien but no matter!." He grabbed his shoulders and started ushering him down the hallway.

"Whoa, hold on!" Rory shrugged his hands away, staring back in shock. "I'm just a nurse. I can't without a Doctor present. I'll go find one if you need..."

"Lucky for you, I _am _a Doctor! But you've gotta do all the work, and I've gotta just...er...supervise. Surprise pop quiz if you like, yay! Now go!" He grabbed his arm and practically dragged him back to Clara's room, who was already crying tears of immense discomfort.

"Um, okay, um." Rory stammered, growing pale with shock and rubbing his hands together awkwardly. "Um,"

"Oh, just get to it!" The Doctor shouted, crouching at Clara's bedside.

"Hey," He whispered softly, rubbing his hand over her cheek. He twined his fingers with hers, kissed her knuckles, and gave her a small smile. "You ready for this."

All she could manage was a nod, but he could see the hope and excitement in her eyes.

Rory sighed, and closed the door behind them. "All right." He stammered. "Well, uh, okay. Let's do this."

**A/N: Bit short but I ran out of ideas for the ending :P**

**Review and send me prompts!**


	11. The Catch

**A/N: On my way to Arkansas, thought I wasn't gonna be able to update all weekend, but my epic amazing dad has to do some work on the road so we have a wifi hotspot in the car and HERE I AM!**

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><p><em><strong>The Catch<strong>_

**Prompt: wibbly-wobbly stuff - **

_- could you do a fluffy one with ice cream and them acting like little kids? _

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.  
><strong>**  
>Rating: K+<strong>

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><p>Back on earth. Again. Despite his affection for its inhabitants, it was one of the most boring planets in the galaxies. No threats to fend off, no aliens trying to take over the planet, no <em>fun. <em>Not in that moment at least.

The Doctor and Clara were simply taking a stroll downtown. Nothing more. Nothing exotic, nothing remotely interesting or fascinating about it. Just trees and people.

His feet were literally inching with the need of excitement. They shuffled around on the stone pavement as he walked, reluctantly dragging himself along Clara's side.

"You could always just _try _and enjoy it, you know." Clara scolded. "Doesn't have to be the most miserable thing in the world."

"But it _is!_" He complained. "We're just _walking,_ Clara. We should be running! Or at least speed walking. Or if we were to walk it would be to take the time to truly admire the beauty of something that's not _London._"

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes, hand diving into her purse to retrieve a small wallet. "Here. Make yourself useful. Get some ice-cream for the two of us, yeah?" She handed him a tenner.

The Doctor eyed the paper suspiciously, plucking it from her hands and holding it up to the light in examination. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is getting you off my back! Now shoo!" She flicked her hands in his direction, urging him on, and watching with a small laugh as he bounded up to the ice-cream stand with the energy of a five year old child.

The Doctor returned a moment later, two cones in hand with triple scoops on top. He already practically had his face buried in his. When he lifted his head, Clara let out an abrupt burst of laughter at the sight of half his face completely coated in chocolate.

"What?" He frowned, handing the undamaged of the two cones to her.

Clara could barely keep a grip, still immersed into deep laughter. "Sorry." She managed out, pressing a hand to her mouth to contain the giggles. "Sorry, you just look ridiculous."

He gave a sort of pout, looking younger and younger with pretty much every move he made, but the expression soon flickered away as he set to work on his cone again.

"C'mon." Clara muttered through her now ice-cream-filled mouth. She looped her free arm through the Doctor's, gave it a slight tug, and they started walking again.

But they'd only taken a few steps before the Doctor grabbed her shoulder, spun him to face her, and crashed his cone into her face. Clara gasped in surprised as the icy coolness made contact with her skin, letting out a little frustrated squeal. "Doctor!"

He removed the cone from her face and continued to feast on his treat, raising his nonexistent eyebrows innocently.

Clara gave him that look, that cold, yet lightly amused stare, and gripped her own cone tightly in her hand. She fluttered her eyelids at him, taking a lick, then smashed it into his face. She expected an annoyed 'hey!' or something of the sorts, but the Doctor simply broke into a bout of laughter, wiping the chocolate from his eyes and smudging his hands onto Clara's face.

"Oh, it's on, Chinny!" And it began. The ultimate competition of ice-ceam smearing. The two earned many shocked and vaguely annoyed comments from a few pedestrians, but ignored them all the same. Hands connected with eachother's faces the battle dragged on, only ending when Clara took an out-of-breath step out of his reach.

"God, I'm a mess!" She shook her hands out, flinging the melted ice-cream onto the ground. She caught sight of the Doctor, a dazed, interested, familiar look in his eye. He stepped forward, looked down at her, and put a hand on her face.

"Let me help you with that." And on that note, he gently pressed his lips into hers.

**A/N: Well. That escalated quickly.**

**Definitely not my best, but we have to shut down the hotspot in like 5 minutes and I really wanted to update while I can. :)**


	12. Baby It's Cold Outside

_**Baby It's Cold Outside**_

**Prompt: Cmdr's Monkey  
><strong>

- 11 and ice skates and a frozen lake not so frozen-y solid wet and cold Time Lord needing to be babied :p

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

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><p>"Ice skating..." The Doctor marveled in disbelief. "Of all things, you want to go <em>ice skating<em>?"

"Yes! Please?" Clara pleaded with him, clasping her hands together and staring up at him with a mock-quivering lip and begging eyes.

"But we could go to the Amarantic Nebula! All the colours of the rainbow, plus 34 more colours you didn't even _know _existed. All swirling in the sky into one mass cloud, and time it _just _right and it actually forms on the _ground_." He rolled his eyes. "And you want to go ice skating?"

"Oh, come on! I've not been since I was a kid with my mum. I was quite good at it, actually." She crossed her arms with a hardening stare. "Pleeeease?"

"You're the boss." The Doctor muttered gruffly, setting the proper coordinates. After a few reluctant movements of the flickering of switches and pressing of various buttons the TARDIS leaped into action.

"Woohoo!" Clara exclaimed happily, gripping the console until they came to an abrupt landing. "Right, then. Wardrobe? This way?" She asked for clarification, already backing away in the pointed direction of the west corridor.

"What's wrong with what you're wearing right now?" The Doctor questioned with a frown, following her nonetheless.

"Hello...ice skating, ice, cold, brrrr? Need warm clothes!" She turned on him with her hands braced on her hips, and her head tilted in that sassy physical tone. "Honestly, you'll catch your death out there in that." She patted his chest, acknowledging the thin purple tweed coverup before skipping down the hall again.

"Time Lord." He announced proudly, standing on his toes and straightening his bow-tie with a lifted chin. "I don't get cold."

"Suit yourself!" Her voice already no more than the volume of a whisper, having vanished into a room off to the side. She returned to the console room moments, later, the Doctor immediately at her side.

"Talk about fancy dress." Lip quivering to contain a bout of laughter, the Doctor smirked in amusement at the sight presented before him. Dressed in the biggest, fluffiest, most definitely _warmest _coat was Clara, peering through the zip of her hood and crossing her arms.

"Shut up." She warned, already walking in the direction of the front doors.

"Here." The Doctor was still sounding reluctant as he passed her a pair of classic white ice skates. While she fumbled with the tie, he maneuvered around her to reach the door, swinging it open with a satisfied nod. He then slipped on his own pair with relative ease, only to send himself nearly crashing to the ground due to lack of balance.

"Right, then!" Clara announced, arms held out to the side as she kept her determined demeanor to remain on her feet. God, they hadn't even stepped onto the ice yet and she was already wobbly. "Ready?"

Slightly less gruffly, the Doctor emitted a smile and nodded, pulling the doors open and stepping out, immediately reaching to the outside corner of the box to hold himself up.

"Whoa!" Clara hadn't been expected to be immediately stepping onto the ice. The Doctor had taken them to your basic lake on earth, in the dead of winter and completely frozen over. Clara slipped and slid around upon exiting the TARDIS, her momentum already sending her gliding forward. "Doctor!" She shouted with a giggle, turning her head slowly and reaching out for him.

He was still trying to regain his footing. But after a few flailing attempts he managed a proper shove off the box, and sent himself after her. "Ah!" He shouted as he lost his balance again, but remained on his feet somehow as he caught up with Clara.

Clara smiled and looped her arm through his, holding him close for warmth and steadiness. "This was much easier when I was a kid!" She shouted with wobbly legs.

"No kidding!" It came out as a complaint, and the tighter gripping of Clara's jacket as he once again lost his footing and was sent sprawling to the ground, dragging Clara down with him. "Ow!"

"Ugh." She sighed, trying to stand up but only to result in falling again. So there they sat, side by side, on the cold, frozen ground, trying to regain their bearings and looking quite ridiculous. And on top of all that, Clara soon noticed with a smirk that the Doctor had started shivering.

"All powerful unable-to-get-cold Time Lord, eh?" She laughed, biting her lip in a failed attempt to conceal it.

The Doctor frowned, straightening his bow-tie as well as his dignity. "I'm not cold!"

"You're shivering." Clara protested, gesturing to his shaking hand.

"Am not!"

"See that?" She grabbed his wrist loosely, dangling his hand in front of his face and revealing the rapid trembling. "Shivering." She squeezed it between her gloved palms, rubbing back and forth in attempt to reinstate a bit of warmth.

"Fine, I'm cold! But what do you expect? It's bloody _freezing_!" He whined. "Of course I'm cold."

"You should have gotten a jacket like a told you to!" Clara scolded, trying not to reveal her sympathy.

But those puppydog eyes were getting to her. The Doctor didn't respond, just rubbed his hands together and breathed a gust of hot air into his enclosed palms.

They were getting weird looks. Children and parents skated by, eying the two 'grown-ups' sitting on the ice like a couple of kids, shivering and complaining. But the pair ignored them.

"Oh, come here." Clara laughed, wrapping her arms around the Doctor from the side, just barely able to reach due to her arms' tiny size. She rubbed friction onto his arms rapidly, trying to warm him up as much as she could. She pressed her cheek to his, shuddering at the significance in body temperature, but was met with a small deal of comfort that it meant that his warmth was growing.

"Thanks.." He muttered quietly, almost coming out as a scoff, as if he oh, most definitely didn't need _her _help. But it wasn't totally horrible being treated like this. He hadn't had someone to comfort him in this way in a long while. It was sort of nice.

Soon, the shivering subsided. "Want to go back to the TARDIS?" Clara suggested, already attempting to get back to her feet.

The Doctor shook his head vigorously. "Let's skate around a bit more!" Clara was surprised by the excited comment, and he smirked inwardly, already hoping he got cold enough to start shivering once again. Clara as a heater was better than anything he had back on the TARDIS.

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><p><strong>AN: Review and send more prompts!  
><strong>


	13. Deja Vu

**A/N: Sorry I'm a bit behind on prompts. Been out of town this weekend and it's been hectic :P I'll try to get back to my normal routine  
><strong>

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><p><em><strong>Deja Vu<br>**_

**Prompt: TheBigCat  
><strong>

- _Clara is possessed by an alien. Any Doctor_

**Note: Bit of New Earth Deja Vu in this chapter. Somehow I'm finding this prompt more difficult than others.  
><strong>

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

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><p>"Doctor, what the hell are you doing here?" Clara stomped through the TARDIS doors, feisty, fiery look in her eye and her arms cross over her chest as she escalated up the ramp.<p>

"Same reason I'm always doing here! I need your help." He told her matter-of-factly.

"I am in the middle of a lesson!" She scolded. "You can't just park in the middle of my class! I've got one hell of an explanation to give now."

But the TARDIS was already taking off. Clara flung herself to the console, gripping the edge to keep her balance in tact, and shot the Doctor a glare. _"One _trip. Then you're coming back to help me explain to the children why a police box just appeared in their classroom. All right?"

"Yes, yes fine, whatever." The Doctor brushed himself off as the machine came to a halt. He and Clara exchanged many frightening looks on their journey to the front doors. The Doctor braced himself, expectant of another scolding. His hand lingered on the warm wood off the TARDIS doors, not knowing why he was waiting for her permission to exit.

"Oh, hurry it up." Was all she said, and shoved the doors open for him.

The Doctor stepped out first, arms raised high above his head. "Behold the...wait. That's not right."

Clara emerged behind him, shutting the doors as she did. She peered over his shoulder as he was blocking any real view of the terrain, and caught sight of nothing but...rocks. Mountains, caves, just rocky terrain.

"Are we back on Earth?" She questioned.

"No." He mused, taking a few shocked steps onward. "Much, much further."

"Well where, then?"

He didn't directly respond, just made a show of sniffing and tasting the air. He danced around on the ground a bit, then made use of his little yo yo which bounced up and down perfectly fine. "Tantazami, I believe." He finally announced.

"But that's not where you were planning going, right?" She asked, a smirk tinted in her words.

"Suppose not."

"Then why don't we just leave?"

He sniffed again. "Smell that?"

Clara inhaled deeply through her nose, but detected nothing out of the ordinary. What she instead detected was a sudden chilly breeze.. It swept over her , giving her chills and inflicting a small shudder.

"You okay?" The Doctor eyed her.

"Got real cold all of a sudden."

"Er...no it didn't." He protested.

"Well, sorry us humans don't have your-" She broke off as her mind began to become fuzzy. Things were becoming less and less clear...she could vaguely hear the Doctor speaking something to her, but couldn't pinpoint the words. Before she could act, or even form a coherent word, she felt the whole world go black.

The Doctor watch with a dumbfound expression as Clara fell to the ground with a _thud._ He approached her still form and gently nudged her with his boot. "Clara?" He kicked lightly at her side. "Clara?"

Her eyes shot open and she inhaled a deep, shaky gasp. She remained still except for the deep rise and fall of her chest, and her eyes which frantically searched the area around her. Suddenly, a type of victorious smile played on her lips. Slowly, and a bit wobbly, she then managed to rise to her feet.

"Um, are you all right?" The Doctor questioned, holding out a steadying arm in case she fell again, although he wasn't yet touching her.

She just stared blankly at him for a moment, then looked away towards the mountains. "It worked."

"Excuse me?"

"Bit small on the inside, mind you, but I think it'll do perfectly nicely." Her hands moved over her arms, torso, and legs, and she bounced a little on her feet.

"Clara..."

"Shut up about this Clara, she's long gone."

"But..._oh..._"

"Catching on now, wrinkles?"

"That's what I smelled! Living Tantazami cloud particles in the air! Smells of yeast, iron," He inhaled deeply. "And a bit of lemon."

"We've been just swimming the air like dust for far too long, now." She told him. "Not often that a nice human or two come to visit. But we take advantage when we can."

"Well, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." The Doctor said in almost a professional tone. "I need her back."

"Too late! Only way to undo the possession is with the proper combination of chemical and electrical sonic waves emitted through one hell of a strong source. So unless you have a..."

The Doctor smirked, whipping out his sonic screwdriver.

"Oh. Wait, wait, hangon. Let's talk about this! I'm sure you can at least spare her for a few days, hmm? Maybe?"

"Bye bye!" He pointed and pressed, and a soft green light pulsed from the end. 'Clara's' head went back and her mouth flew open, and a gust of a smoke-like substance flew from inside her. She groaned, her eyes began to flutter, and then her legs crumpled from beneath her.

Acting upon an instinct, the Doctor didn't know what from, he shot forward with remarkable speed, catching Clara beneath the arms before she could hit the ground. He held her up at arms length, holding his head back in denial of the awkward contact, and waited for her to fully come to.

Clara looked around, gripping the Doctor's shoulders to help keep herself upright. When she met his eyes, a soft smile of relief danced on her face. "Hello..."

The Doctor gave more of a smirk than a smile, only inflicted by a sudden memory. "Hello. Welcome back."

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><p><strong>AN: Probably not what you were expecting/hoping for, but this one was a bit of a challenge for me for some reason. Hope it was okay :3**


	14. Alone Time

**_Alone Time_**

**Prompt: Guest**

_- Clara and the doctor haven't "been together" since the birth of their youngest child, whose now 2 months old, and they're trying to get some alone time but their kids keep interrupting_

**Note: This is _not_ a smutty piece (hence the T rating), but basically, if you're 12, go to another chapter. **

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

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><p>Three kids. <em>Three kids. <strong>Three<strong>_** kids.** Clara was just now getting a glimpse of what she'd gotten herself into.

Nearly six year old Graham, four year old Killian, and two _month _old Emma. For six years of Clara's life she'd wiped every snotty nose, bandaged every cut, soothed every fever, and cured every nightmare. For six years her life had been chaotic. No more down time, no more naps, less travels...things were difficult.

But the thing was, she enjoyed every moment. These little happenings in her life had seemed to fill an empty spot within her. She loved each and every one of them, and she didn't regret a single decision she'd made.

But...it _was _nice to have a little time to herself sometimes. Well, herself and the Doctor.

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><p>It was still extremely early in the morning when Clara woke. She never got much sleep anymore. Especially with the new baby. Something or someone was always waking her up before the figurative sun even rose - as they were aboard the TARDIS.<p>

But this time, it wasn't a child bringing her back to consciousness. It was a cool, passionate sensation on her lips. Clara met with the response of immediately flinging her eyes open, meeting the Doctor's kiss with a delighted mutter and her hand in his hair.

The Doctor broke the sensation with a gasp for air, eyes opening to meet Clara's. A smile danced across his face and he hand immediately connected with hers. "Well good morning."

"Shut up." She rolled onto her back, eyes already fluttering closed again, and grabbed his shoulders to pull him down. "Been too long." She mutter as his lips were brought down to hers, and he simply nodded vigorously in reply.

But that was as far as they got as a piercing, high pitched cry echoed from their neighboring bedroom. Clara sighed in frustration and the Doctor flipped off of her and landed on the bed with a _thud. _

"Emma." Clara acknowledge, closing her eyes. "Will you go get her?"

The Doctor groaned in mock-annoyance, but simply nodded and kissed Clara on the forehead before swinging the duvet off his legs and departing.

"Here we are." Clara heard him whisper a few moments later, practically tip-toeing back into the bedroom with a smile on his face and their daughter wrapped up in his arms. "S'alright, now, it's just daddy." Emma emitted high pitched squeals, tiny hands flailing in distress before gripping the fabric of her father's shirt.

"Bring her here." Clara requested, scooting out from under the covers to sit cross-legged atop. She then held out her arms beckoning the Doctor closer. He placed the baby in her arms, who instantly ceased her crying upon laying eyes on her mother's face. "Hey, girl." Clara whispered, bouncing her lightly in her arms.

"She'll be a Mummy's Girl, that one." The Doctor said with a laugh, sitting down beside the two and placing a hand on Clara's shoulder. He leaned forward until his mouth was just inches from her ear. "We'll try again later."

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><p>The kids were all napping. Even Emma. Each of them had settled peacefully into their little beds, eyes closing even before Clara had left their rooms. Emma had her own nursery next to the Doctor and Clara's bedroom while Killian and Graham shared their own further down the corridor. Things were peaceful. Had been for a few minutes now. So the couple snagged the chance, not knowing when they might get it again.<p>

The Doctor laid down on the bed first, and Clara was soon to follow. Their lips immediately met, hands tangled in eachother's hair, and things were already beginning to progress quickly. They enveloped eachother's embrace, muttering a few things like 'finally' and 'hurry before the kids wake up'. But as soon as the Doctor began reaching for the hem of her shirt, their door flew open without warning, and they flung themselves off eachother.

"Muuuum!" Graham came running in and jumped atop their bed on his hands and knees. "Killian keeps biting my elbow!"

"Daddy, Graham called me annoying. What's that mean?" He climbed on top of the Doctor's lap, who was now sitting up and sighing with irritation.

Clara was about to speak up with Emma's cries began drifting from her nursery. "You two woke up your sister!" She scolded.

"Sorry!" Graham bit his lip, old enough to realise the severity. "But can I please sleep in another room? I _never _get any sleep with Killian."

"You've been sleeping in the same room together for nearly three years now." The Doctor told him. "You can handle it."

The almost six year old groaned, throwing his head back like a bratty teen, and sulked out of the room.

"Off you go, Killian." His father placed him gently on the floor, and the child skipped out of the room.

Clara sighed. "I'll go get Emma." Just as she was leaving the room, the Doctor called one last thing.

"One more try tonight?"

"Yeah." She smiled, exiting the room. "One more try."

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><p>They didn't hesitate. Didn't even stop for a break on their journey from putting the children to bed and heading back to their bedroom. They practically ran in like a couple of excited kids. Clara flung herself onto the bed with an exasperated sigh while the Doctor took a moment to manually lock the bedroom door. "Just so we have a bit of a warning next time." He explained, already placing himself on top of her and practically ripping off his shirt. Clara smoothed her hands over his chest before pulling him straight down, not wanting to waste another second.<p>

Their lips met, the Doctor's raggedy hair blinding Clara as they performed in a rush.

"So far so good." She gasped out, only breaking the kiss for a split second.

The Doctor combed his fingers through her hair in reply, rolling onto his side on the bed for better access.

Their three hearts in total stopped as they heard a whirring, then a clicking noise emitting from the doorway. They looked over their shoulders hastily, eyes widening at what they saw.

There stood Killian, an awed expression on his face, standing illuminated right outside the door with the sonic screwdriver in hand. "Whoa! Look what I found!" He shouted, pressing the button and admiring the pulsing green glow, not even realising it was what had caused the door to unlock.

"Mum! Dad! Killian found this thing that -" Graham came bursting in, then froze in his tracks as he caught sight of the Doctor and Clara in bed. His face screwed up in disgust. "Eeeew were you two kissing?" He let out a shudder, threw his hands in the air and walked away. "I'm out!"

Clara flopped herself onto her pillow with a laugh, and the exhausted closing of her eyelids. "I give up."

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><p><strong>AN: Hehe. Killian, Graham, Emma, Once Upon a Time anyone? **

**Review and - oh you know the drill ;)**


	15. Bound to Happen

_**Bound to Happen**_

**Prompt: TheBigCat**

_-Clara attempts to explain to her class why she keeps turning up late with sand in her hair/slimy stuff on her shirt and why the new class pet looks sort of-probably-almost-definitely alien and why there's occasionally a blue police box in the corner of the classroom. Bonus points if the Doctor bursts in halfway through her explanation, yelling at everyone to evacuate.  
>YUP, THIS'LL PROBABLY TURN OUT CRACKY. WHO CARES.<em>

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

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><p>"Sorry I'm late, you lot! We won't waste another moment's time. Go on and pull out your text books and turn to page 247."<p>

Clara's words all ran together like a text message without any spaces. She panted them all out in one breath, hands on her hips in hopes the slight elevation may calm her pounding heart. Same as practically every day, she'd just returned from a wild, exhausting, _exhilarating _chase with the Doctor. _Oh, the __third leaning tower of Pisa of Space Italy, _he said. _It'll be fun! _he said. But just as always, that thick alien of a man had gotten the coordinates wrong, leaving them in the midst of a tomb heist in southern Egypt.

"Miss, why're you all sweaty?" 16 year old Tommy questioned.

"Went for a nice jog." She explained coolly, having already prepared a detailed story if they were to press further.

"On the _beach?_" He prompted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You tracked sand in." He pointed out, gesturing to the bits of gravel in between the doorway and her desk.

"Ah." Clara said, holding onto her calm face as she wracked her brain for an explanation. But before she could, Courtney Woods spoke out.

"Yesterday you had a shrimp in your hair, last week there was a dead baby chicken in your shoe, and now this." She said with a smirk, already knowing of her teacher's travels with the 'Caretaker', and seizing the opportunity to give her the hardest time. Because that's what she was. A disruptive influence. And she was seizing the chance at being further disruptive.

Clara shot her a warning look, one that seemed to silence her and the rest of the class. "Right, then." She straightened herself her dignity. "Do as I asked and turn to page 247."

A few complied, head's sagging under her overbearing stare, but some, like Courtney, Tommy, and a few others, just looked at her defiantly.

"_I _think she's been with Mr. Pink." She heard a girl giggle to a friend, who laughed loudly in reply.

"Ozzie loves the Squaddie." Courtney exclaimed, and the whole class burst into a fit of chuckles.

Brow furrowing and mouth twisting in frustration, Clara slammed her hand down roughly onto the top of her wooden desk, wincing as she sent papers and books sprawling about. "Enough! Next person to speak out of turn is going straight to the principle. You understand me?!"

That silenced them once and for all, all except for Courtney, who's smirk was just as loud as her words had been.

"Listen. Nothing's going on. You all need to do as I say and accept the fact that _everything's normal._ All right?" Clara demanded.

Just then, her head bowed in agony as the familiar screech of the TARDIS began echoing through the small space. It landed right in the midst of the classroom, sending papers flying about and students fleeing to the walls. The Doctor jumped out, ringing a little bell that was clasped in his wrinkled hand. "Everyone out! Out, get out!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Clara shouted in a sort of hiss, stomping up to him with fists clenched at her sides.

"I might have led a giant mosquito straight into the school that wants to eat everyone in his path." He explained, already ushering the kids. "_Might _have."

"What's the old Caretaker doin' in that box?" Tommy exclaimed frantically, already fleeing the room in surprise. "You're all bloody mad, you are!"

Clara threw her head back in frustration, and the Doctor just smirked in amusement. She brought her eyes to his. "You'd better run, you clever boy, because I'm _so _going to kill you."

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><p><strong>AN: Sooo I had a realization. This was supposed to be a collection of h/c, whumpy, angsty fics, and instead has just taken a turn of random crack xD so, I'll definitely have the occaisional exception, but keep on just sending me h/c prompts. I'm trying to get this back on the original track :) ILL ACCEPT PRETTY MUCH ANY FLUFF THO JUST PUTTIN THAT OUT THERE  
><strong>

**Review and send lots and lots of prompts! H/c, whump, gimme it all. **

***whispers* still waiting for a chance to write a sickfic. -hint hint-**


	16. Got It All Wrong

_**Got It All Wrong**_

**Prompt: Cmdr's Monkey**

_-The Doctor (11 or 12) ends up accused of witchcraft by mediaeval humans while trying to convince them Clara isn't the witch they're looking for. They try to hang and drown him, except it kinda doesn't work when they discover how long he can really hold his breath. Clara tries to convince them he'll do something to them all (your choice) if they don't stop. At the same time this is all happening he's trying to talk his way out of their attempts to kill him._

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

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><p>"Doctor!" Clara's distressed, <em>terrified <em>screams echoed throughout the streets of 14th Century London. A choking sob caught the back of her throat as she struggled, pulling, twisting, resisting with every muscle in her frail, malnourished body. Her bare feet skidded across the rocky sand as she was practically dragged between two guards, and the rags she had for clothes ripped and stretched at each additional tug of her arms. She gritted her teeth, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut as she was hauled further down the road, her restrainers ready to offer her the most hell-filled death they could manage in mere minutes.

Drowning.

A man gripped her neck from behind, squeezing tight in a show of dominance before flinging Clara to her knees. The earth scraped her skin, leaving a raw, red patch in its wake. Her bound ankles and wrists were sore from long-held metal chains, her body trembled with weakness from recent lack of food, but most of all, her heart twisted and ached at the nagging question that continued to poison her mind.

Where was the Doctor...

"This witch," A voice boomed beside her, seeming very tall to the small woman, "Will alas face the ultimate penalty for the practice of witchcraft!" Many triumphant cheers echoed through the streets, causing Clara to feel more and more alone. A line of woman to her left all held a similar expression of hers. Being fellow inmates, fellow victims of the kingdoms cruelty, they all held the expression of utter despair. Not only knowing that their death was soon coming, but that there was no means of escape. And no one to save them.

"On your feet, witch." The guard hissed, grabbing Clara by her hair and hauling her upwards, resulting in a pained squeal. His grip on her remained tight, showing his dominance and her vulnerability as weights were attached to her legs could feel the deadly tug of the metal chains alone, dreading the feel of the balls that would sink her into the depths of the lake. She was roughly spun around so that she was facing the crowd. The snarling, sinful cheers and claps continued and finally, for the first time that day, Clara let down the wall she'd held up so desperately, and allowed a single tear to fall down her cheek. This only earned more laughs and shouts.

Clara closed her eyes as she was inched closer and closer to the edge of the shore, just bracing for the cold, deadly feeling on her skin, and the chest-tightening lack of oxygen that would soon follow.

She said a silent prayer, plea, whatever you liked to call it. She hoped with everything in her that somehow, some way, the Doctor would find her. He'd never let her down before. Would that change today?

Clara hadn't noticed that the grip on her neck returned until now. Two men lifted the weights dangling from her feet, dropped them into the water, and she soon followed.

So she fell. She sank. Deeper and deeper into the water she went, until blackness was all that was known.

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><p>The soles of the Doctor's boots pounded rapidly on the earth, pace quickening more and more until he skidded to a stop, angry mob coming into sight. The crowd was gathered around the edge of the lake, hooting and shouting, fists pumping the air. His hearts stopped as his eyes came to rest on the source of the people's attentiveness.<p>

There, shackled and shamed, was Clara, standing at the edge of the lake with a sullen look in her drooping eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek, falling to the sand with a soft splash that only the Doctor's ears were able to detect. With a surge of understanding and anxiety, his hearts managed to restart, pounding violently in his chest as he called out. "Clara!"

She made no sign that she heard him, but the Doctor could hear a choking sort of sob emitted from the small girl as she was flung into the lake.

"No!" He cried frantically, shoving the crowd aside as he cleared a path for himself. A path that led to the hopeful safety of Clara. He passed up many guards, who hissed violent, snarling comments in his direction - something about treason and harboring a fugitive- but he ignored them all. Never breaking stride as he dove head-on into the lake.

She was already nearing the bottom, the ruthless weights dragging her down at a remarkable speed. Despite the little time she'd spent underwater so far, her eyes were already closed and her limbs already limp. No way was she unconscious already, unless she'd inhaled water upon immediately entering...but that wasn't possible. Not unless she'd just given up right at the beginning...

The Doctor's limbs pushed the mass aside as he dug deeper and deeper, arms outstretched and just aching to get a grip on her hand. But the first thing he aimed for was the weight that was dragging her down. He pulled the sonic from his soaked jacket pocket, waterproof of course, and unlocked the chains binding her ankles and wrists. With a few tugs and buzzes, she was free.

But also unconscious.

The Doctor wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and used his free arm and legs to drive himself upward, holding Clara close the entire way. Alas, they broke the surface. He took a huge gulp of air, savoring the sweet oxygen, then nearly feeling it being taken all away again as Clara's breath was lacking. Her chest remained still, her eyes remained closed, and her limbs remained limp.

"It wasn't her!" Was the first thing the Doctor could think to say upon reaching shore, angry mob and guards already sickeningly furious at him for ruining their show. "She's not a sorcerer!" Subconsciously refusing to let her become damaged by the sticky mud on the shore, he lifted her into his arms and carried her with swift, but quick strides to the dry road, where he set her down gingerly.

"Peasant, away from the witch!" A guard grabbed the Doctor's shoulder, attempting to pull him away.

"It wasn't her!" The Doctor turned on him, shoving him away violently and producing the sonic from his pocket once again. He shoved it into the air, pressing firmly down on the button to prove his point, and earning many shocked and frightened murmurs from the surrounding civilians. He dismissed what he'd just done, returning to Clara's side and throwing himself to his knees.

"Clara. Clara?!" He patted her cheek lightly, fingertips searching for a pulse in her neck. The thready beat brought him only the slightest bit of relief. She still wasn't breathing.

He was just about to initiate CPR when Clara began coughing up water, spluttering foul liquid all over herself and the ground. She inhaled several shaky bouts of oxygen, eyes searching her surroundings frantically until they came to rest on the Doctor's. Her face lit up, she smiled with relief, and grasped the Doctor's hand like a lifeline. "You found me."

"Always." He sighed with an anxious type of relief, resting his forehead on hers before pulling her into a sitting position, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

The embrace lasted mere seconds as the Doctor's hands were gripped violently, swinging him away from Clara, and being forcefully bound at his front.

"Sorcery!" The guard exclaimed loudly, hauling the Doctor to his feet and pulling him away.

"Doctor!" Clara's eyes went wide and she dashed forward, arms reaching out to him and gripping the lapels of his jacket.

"Get to the TARDIS!" He ordered, seemingly not even bothering to attempt an escape as his ankles were bound and weights were attached.

"I'm not leaving you!" She retorted, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.

"I won't drown." He winked. "Please. I'm too good for that." He straightened his damp bow-tie proudly, only to have his arms forced back down by the guard. The Doctor frowned, but protested no more.

"I'm not leaving you." Clara repeated, but no longer attempted to move to his side. "Not now, not ever."

"Please...do it for me. Get to safety." His eyes were pleading and desperate, betraying the fact that he wanted nothing more than for her to be okay.

Clara shook her head, but could do nothing but watch as he was dragged away.

"Go!" The Doctor shouted, voice hardening as he was drawn nearer and nearer to the edge.

Clara couldn't watch. Nor could she do anything to stop them. So she turned a blind eye and ran. Ran all the way back to the TARDIS. Never ceasing stride, never looking back.

But only because she trusted the Doctor to survive the lake.

Not because she planned on staying away. She _would _be back for him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well I got a bit carried away didn't I? xD I'll get the next part posted tomorrow at the latest. **


	17. Got It All Wrong - Part 2

_**Got It All Wrong - Part 2**_

* * *

><p>His chest felt constricted with the building pressure of the surrounding waves. His lungs screamed for air, sending rapid, painful signals to his brain, telling him he needed to get out of there. <em>Now. <em>

The Doctor felt large hands gripping him around the neck. He went limp, trying to hold the demeanor of a deceased human being as he was hauled out of the water. The chains were removed and he was roughly thrown to the ground.

He kept his eyes closed and his chest still, growing lightheaded from lack of oxygen. He'd been in that lake ten minutes before they'd finally decided to get him out...couldn't have a bunch of dead bodies floating around in the lake, could they? Thanks to his binary vascular system, for the first several minutes he'd retained alert consciousness with ease. But even with superior physiology he could only hold his breath for so long. He needed air.

His mind was feeling fuzzy, things were becoming less and less real. He was grasped tightly by the wrists, being dragged away. He was so close. He just had to hold on a little longer...

But the Doctor was beginning to succumb into the depths of unconscious blackness. He had no choice but a gulp of sweet, life-saving oxygen.

"He's alive!" A man shouted, and the Doctor knew his cover was blown. No use to pretending any longer, he opened his eyes, took a moment to catch his breath, and stared up at the guard with a smirk.

"Sorry, mate. Can't drown."

The guard let out a sort of snarl, teeth bared and fists clenched as he stared down at the impossible man at his feet. The crowd shouted angrily, throwing sticks and stones in the Doctor's direction. He was grasped by his arms, too weak to do anything but comply when he was commanded to rise to his feet. "Sir, he must have used his magic to allow him to survive without air!" A man shouted with wide eyes. The guard just gave a gruff nod, grasping the Doctor's shoulders tightly and shoving him towards a small group of soldiers. "Lock him up."

As the Doctor was being hauled away, he caught a glimpse...more of a flash...of chocolate brown hair being swept sideways by the cold wind. There she was, little Clara, peering from behind a wagon, staring at him with frightened eyes. "Doctor!"

He caught her gaze, shaking his head, trying to tell her to leave before she was discovered. But brave as she was, she made one of the stupidest decisions she could have possibly made. She ran after him.

"Clara! Get back to the TARDIS!" He cried desperately, eyes widening at the sight of her already being pursued by sword-wielding soldiers. But her confident stride never broke.

In the midst of the distraction, the Doctor managed to pull away from his restrainers. No longer restricted by the cold chains, he was able to make an easy getaway, making a straight break for Clara, who met him on the way, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Go!" As much as he liked her hugs, and he _really _liked her hugs, this couldn't have been a worse time. Soldiers nearly upon them they ran, hand in hand, their one thought being getting to the safety of the TARDIS.

But it didn't last long. Their shoulders were grasped, hauling them backwards with such force that they were flung to the ground.

"Fools!" The guard spit at them, binding their hands roughly behind their backs.

"I told you to stay in the TARDIS!" The Doctor hissed, eyes boring down on Clara's as she stared up at him defiantly.

"Did you honestly expect me to leave you to die?!" Clara retorted, rising to her feet upon command.

"I expected you to do as you were told." He hissed, tripped over his boots a bit as they were pushed towards the dungeons.

"I'm not a child, Doctor. You can't tell me what to do. If you're in danger, I'm _not _leaving you."

He just let out a sort of huff, turning his head away.

"We don't walk away, remember?"

The Doctor sighed, risking a sideways glance, which was soon broken as they were roughly shoved into their cell, flung roughly to the ground.

"You will be executed at sundown." The guard told them loudly as he locked the door, then stalked away with a confident stride.

"Well, this is just great." Clara shifted her hands around, trying to avoid the uncomfortable pinching her restraints had to offer.

"We'll get out of here." The Doctor promised, but his were contained little hope.

"And how do you propose we do that?" She stood up to peer through the metal bars, taking in the already dimming lighting outside. "We've got an hour at most."

"Don't worry." He continued to assure, leaning against the the cold, stone wall and crossing his legs in front of him. Clara looked down, catching sight of his drooping eyelids and slightly lowered head. His fingers fiddled with eachother, hands twitching nervously in his lap.

She slid down the wall, taking a seat at his side. "You all right?"

"'Course I am." He told her, offering a shadow of a smile.

Clara returned it, albeit a little bright, and reached across to grasp his hand, twining her fingers with his.

* * *

><p>"Listen to me, listen to me! You don't want to do this."<p>

"You have been charged with the practice of sorcery. You will be executed."

"You lot keep in mind," Clara called out hesitantly. "Sorcery is a powerful thing! He'll turn you all into frogs if you don't do as he says!"

"Listen to me!" The Doctor pleaded, tugging at the arms that gripped his shoulders as he was led up the stairs and onto the platform. Clara stood nearby, forced to watch the scene as she awaited her own execution. Her eyes with filled with tears, but her cries for him fell upon deaf ears. The Doctor's current concentration was getting the two of them out of there alive. "Listen. I can help you. I can use my...er...sorcery to help the kingdom. You're making a terrible mistake!" The rope was looped around his neck, and he could already feel the constriction being pressed against his throat.

"Silence!" He was commanded, the rope growing tighter. He could almost feel the tremor in the platform beneath his feet, just waiting to drop out from under him.

An announcement was being made and the crowd was continuing to cheer. The Doctor's eyes were wide with fear. A fear that he hadn't encountered for a long while. It was rare he was faced with a situation like this, a situation where there was no way out. He was about to die. He wasn't even sure if he'd regenerate. He looked to his left, hoping to catch one final glance of his Impossible Girl...but her presence was oddly lacking. Where had she gone?

His attention snapped back to the guard in front of him, who was on a lower level, gripping the platform in both hands with a sinful smile. With a sharp tug, it was pulled out from beneath the Doctor. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and brace himself for the searing pain that would last just moments before death.

But instead of feeling the deathly choking of his throat, he felt nothing more than the ground dropping from beneath him. And he dropped with it, falling no more than mere feet. His head shot up, he looked around with confusion, and caught sight of the rope attached to his neck. The other end wasn't tied to anything.

Next thing he knew, a hand was grasping his, already pulling him away. "Run!" Clara shouted, dragging him with her. The Doctor didn't stop to ask immediate questions, just followed, gripping her hand like a lifeline.

"But...what...how?!" He shouted over the sound of angry soldiers.

"These people have lousy knot work!" She shouted, holding up her unbound wrists with a victorious smile.

"You untied the rope!?"

"I wasn't about to let them hang you!" Clara replied, laughing with relief at the distance they'd already put between themselves and the guards.

The TARDIS came into sight and the Doctor dug out his key, flinging the door open and ushering Clara inside. He followed, slamming it shut behind him, and leaning against it with a pant. "Clara Oswald..." He laughed loudly, running up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He swung her in a large circle, earning a happy giggle and the clenching of his shoulders in reply, then set her down to cup her face in both hands. "You truly are impossible."

**A/N: Now this is the kind of thing that I really enjoy writing. Don't know why. It's just so much fun :D**

**Review and keep sending in the h/c prompts!**


	18. Sacrifice

_**Sacrifice **_

**Prompt: VortextemporalisTARDISque**

_- My shipper heart was completely broken after Kill The Moon and could you just write a story where the doctor saves the school (after Clara dumped him) and ends up poisoned or tortured or whatever and "Ozzie and the Squaddie" try to take care of him while being really guilty, also fluff?_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O., Danny P.  
><strong>

**Rating: K+**

* * *

><p>Closed eyelids, pallid skin, still limbs, and a lulling head. If it weren't for the faint rising and falling of the Doctor's chest, Clara would have thought he was dead.<p>

Her knees ached from the many hours spent kneeling at his bedside. Her fingers were sore from the consistent tight gripping of his hand, constantly terrified that if she let go, he may slip away from her for good. Her head felt fuzzy from many nights with little sleep, because how could she sleep when he might wake up?

Clara jumped in surprise when she felt a warm hand squeezing her shoulder. She blinked exhaustion from her eyes as she looked up, seeing the concerned face of Danny Pink looming over her.

"Clara..." He whispered. "You need to get some rest."

"I can't, and you know that." She protested, bringing her eyes to the Doctor's pale face again. His mouth was slightly agape, a bit of a shallow wheeze being emitted from his lungs. He looked like he couldn't be more uncomfortable. But Clara had done all she could.

Cyberman. Of all things, there had been a Cyberman invasion at Coal Hill. They're swarmed in like bees, picking off students and teachers one by one. Of course, the Doctor had come to the rescue, and had succeeded in once again ridding the planet of the metallic vermin. But not without a price.

_"Clara. They've upgraded themselves." He'd told Clara as a Cyberman had backed her up against the wall. "They're even worse than the last time. Don't resist, or they'll attempt to kill you on the spot." He'd warned._

_Clara had barely heard anything he'd said at the time, just stared into the black, hollow eyes of the monster._

_"They'll do one of two things; electronic pulse, which is fatal, or a poisonous deadly gas...also fatal...hence the 'deadly' in the title." He'd shaken his head, keeping his distance from the Cyberman, but warily keeping his eye on Clara all the same. "Don't try to run."_

_But she hadn't known what else to do. She darted to the left by the time it was just centimetres away, only to freeze in shock as she heard a hissing noise emitted from a spot in its its head._

_"Clara!" And so he'd done it. Before the inevitable could take place, he did the first thing that popped into his mind. Not wasting a single second he'd dashed forward with remarkable speed, knocking directly into Clara shoulder so that she was out of harms way. But he hadn't had the time to get himself away from the danger before the gas was spewed from a slit in its head._

_And Clara had had to watch. Watch the Doctor save her life...putting himself between her and the danger, and slump to the floor unconscious as the poison was inhaled into his lungs._

_She and Danny had managed to get him to the TARDIS, stopping in the medical bay to no avail. They hadn't known how to work any of the equipment, let alone what they were all used for. So they'd proceeded to take him to the nearest bedroom. Whether it belonged to him they didn't know, but it was the quickest thing they'd managed to settle for. All they could do after that, was wait. An impatient wait, at that. For many days, Clara had refused to leave his bedside, just in case he woke up while she was gone. Her main hope, her main _wish,_ was she'd be with him when...and if...he woke. No matter what Danny's protests stated. _

It was her fault, thought Clara. He'd saved her life without even putting a sparing thought into the action...even after what they'd went through just days before.

She'd been...she'd but just so horrible towards him. She'd yelled at him. Cursed. Practically spit in his face as she'd harshly reprimanded for what, to him, had been an innocent action. He hadn't meant to hurt her...he'd just been trying to respect her. Showing her that he trusted her. Had faith in her. And what had she done? She'd stormed out, leaving him hurt in the dust.

And how had he repaid her?

By risking his own life for hers.

Clara didn't realise she'd begun crying until she felt a soft kiss planted on the back of her head, and a soothing had grasping hers.

"Clara." Danny whispered. "He's going to be okay."

"But what if he's not? He could be dying, Danny." She challenged, reaching a hand forward to rest on top of the Doctor's head. She smiled faintly at the familiar feeling as she began combing her fingers through his hair, rubbing her thumb along his brow, and almost completely forgetting about the man standing behind her.

Danny's gaze held something along the lines of jealousy, but he didn't speak out. He just gave Clara a comforting pat on the back before walking away with a shadow of a frown.

"Doctor." Clara muttered, hoping with everything inside her that he could hear her. "I'm sorry..."

* * *

><p>The next morning, after a long night containing many arguments and protests, Clara sat in the kitchen, blanket draped around her shoulders, and warm cup of tea clasped between her hands. She'd gone most the night without sleep, only finally leaving the Doctor's bedside when Danny had offered to sit with him for a while in her place. She'd been reluctant to comply, and completely refused the offer of sleep, but permitted herself to take just a short break. Short.<p>

But she'd been away far too long, and anxiety was once again gripping at her insides. She placed her cup back on the table, then made her way to the bedroom.

Danny had a chair pulled up next to the bed and sat cross-legged, hands clasped in his lap as he watched the Doctor intently.

"Any change?" Clara asked hopefully, slowly, and almost hesitantly approaching.

Danny shook his head. "Don't think so." His expression brightened ever so slightly as he saw her enter, then it faltered into a frown as she didn't even spare him a glance, just sat down on the edge of the bed and gave the Doctor her undivided attention. "How you feeling?"

"I'm fine." She muttered.

"Clara."

"What?"

"Look at me."

She blinked sullenly, and brought her dreary gaze to his.

Danny reached out to touch her cheek, but she flinched away from his touch. "You're exhausted." He mused sadly, settling for holding her hand. "Please. Go get some rest."

Before he even finished speaking she was shaking her head. "I don't want to leave him."

"You don't have to." He stood up and put a hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to sit herself in his chair as his replacement. "This thing isn't half bad. Quite comfortable, actually. You can stay with him if it makes you feel better, but," His voice firmed, and his gaze grew more intent. "But you _need _to get some sleep."

Clara opened her mouth to protest, but just closed it again, as well as her eyes. Her head lowered in defeat. "All right."

"Thank you." Danny kissed her on the forehead before walking out, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

She slid off the chair and dropped to her knees at the bedside. For some reason, as uncomfortable as the position was, she felt a bit closer to the Doctor. Not just physically...but she felt like she could truly be _there _for him. Just barely in reach. She extended a hand to rest on his forehead, stroking softly with her thumb and noting that he felt a bit cooler than before. That was a good sign, she supposed.

Clara let out a sigh and lowered her hand to grasp his. She gave it a slight pat, placed it on his chest, then buried her face in her arms. And for the first time in days, she let her eyes flutter closed with a true intention of getting actual rest.

* * *

><p>Clara was awoken by a cold hand squeezing her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and emitted a soft groan, squinting until she adjusted to the light. "How long was I out?" But she earned no reply. "Danny?"<p>

But as her eyes fully opened, staring straight ahead, she caught sight of the bed...the oddly bare bed, which last time she checked was holding a comatose Doctor. Instead, she looked to her left, and there he was. Seated at her side, hand delicately on her shoulder, was the Doctor.

"Oh my god." Thinking about nothing along the lines of his recent distant lack of contact, Clara sat up and threw her arms around his neck, letting out a soft sob into his shoulder. She sat there like that for a minute, her arms gripping him tightly while his were sprawled out to the sides awkwardly, before finally pulling back. Her smile faded into a scowl, and she swiped her hand across his face.

"Ow!" The Doctor raised a hand to his reddened cheek. "What was that for?!"

"I thought you were dying!" She shouted.

"Well, I'm not! So you don't have to slap me!" He shot back, giving her a glare. "Dying?"

"Yes! That Cyberman poisoned you with that gas stuff."

"Oh, right. Funny how you forget things like that." He mused.

Clara was still staring at him with a dumbfounded expression. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe because you've been bloody comatose for nearly a _week._"

"Ah." He waved a hand in front of his face dismissively. "Nothing more than a little Time Lord trick. Healing coma. Nothing more."

"So...you really are okay?" Clara prompted.

"Yes, Clara. I'm fine." His brow slightly furrowed. "Are you?"

"I am now." She sighed. "You just scared me."

"Sorry." He laughed a bit, giving her that flash of a grin that made her shiver.

"Right, then." Clara cleared her throat, straitening herself a bit. "I'll leave you to it."

"To what?"

"You've been ill for a week, so I think you could use a good rest."

"Yeah. I've also been _resting _for a week."

"Well, rest for another hour. It'll calm my nerves a bit."

"But I don't need it!"

"Ah."

"But I -"

"-Ah ah."

"But,"

"Doctor!"

"Oh, fine." The Doctor muttered with a frown. "You're the boss."

"Yes I am." Clara crossed her arms and gave a curt nod, then just smiled as the Doctor plopped himself back on the bed. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm a perfectly capable man who's perfectly capable of taking care of myself. No. I don't need anything." He scowled.

"All right." She sighed, patting him lightly on the shoulder and earning an almost frightened glare, then walked out. "Sleep well."

"Shut up." He replied, eyes already closing.

Clara laughed and closed the door behind her, nearly jumping out of her skin as she caught the sight of Danny leaning against the corridor wall. A frown was on his face, and his eyes almost looked sunken in.

"You really do love him don't you?" He muttered.

Clara started to reply, but thought against it. She just lowered her head with the brief closing of her eyes, and shuffled away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Review and keep the h/c prompts coming!  
><strong>

**By the way, the list is growing of fics you guys are wanting me to write, so just know that its going to start taking me a bit longer to get around to each one :P Doesn't mean I want you to stop sending them! Keep 'em comin' ;)**


	19. Excuses, Excuses

_**Excuses, Excuses.**_

**Prompt: TheBigCat**

_- Sickfic. Clara is sick and can't come on an adventure. The Doctor doesn't care and drags her along anyway._

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

* * *

><p>He had everything planned out. Everything was ready. The TARDIS coordinates were already preset to take them to early 19th century England, where he would take her to meet Jane Austen. He knew how much she loved <em>Pride and Prejudice. <em>

The TARDIS materialised right in the centre of Clara's flat. That groaning, wheezing sound swept throughout the area, falling upon the unfortunate ears of whoever was nearby. In this case, those ears belonged to Clara.

The Doctor flung himself through the doors, prepared and expecting to see his excited, ready-for-the-day companion, giddy an giggly for their next adventure. He himself was feeling quite pleased, a bit impressed with himself for choosing such a particularly special place for her. Not that he was trying to impress her or anything...

What he was met with instead was the sight of her sprawled out, limp form draped across the living room sofa. Her eyes weren't closed, but she still looked half asleep, if not dead. Her hair was unbrushed and falling freely around her shoulders, her face was pale yet slightly reddened, and several coughs were hacked up from her tired lungs. Oddly enough she was still in her pyjamas, dressing gown wrapped around her shoulders and bare feet curled up on the sofa beside her. A rubbish bin was on the floor, already overflowing with many far too used tissues.

"Go away." She called hoarsely, not even looking at him but obviously knowing he was present.

"Er.." The Doctor stammered, practically tip-toeing as he approached her. He stopped as he came in contact with the side of the sofa, knees braced against the side as he loomed above. "Clara?"

"I said go away." She restated, absently picking up the TV remote to flip through channels.

"But we've got plans!" He protested. "Jane Austen, remember? You said you wanted to meet her."

"'Course I remember." She grunted. "But I can't go. Come back in a week or so."

"And why's that?" He asked with a dumbfound stare.

Clara's brow furrowed, then rose, her lips contorted in a confused expression. She waved her hands in the air, gesturing to her ill-ridden form. When he still just frowned innocently, Clara sighed and flopped her arms down to her sides. "Bit sick."

"Bit sick?"

"Just a bit." She crossed her arms, voice biting with sarcasm.

"Well you can't let that get in your way!" The Doctor stated in an almost-shout. "Silly human ailments. That's nothing."

"Well I feel like crap, so I'm not coming today. And you can't make me." She frowned.

"Oh, excuses, excuses. Sure I can." He made his way to the opposite side of the sofa and seized her by the arm. "Let's go."

Clara let out a sort of yelp in surprise, stumbling over her own feet in her fever-induced exhaustion as she was dragged across the flat. "Doctor." She whined.

"Enough with the complaining, Clara. We've got things to do!" His grip never loosened, suddenly taking much of her weight as she continued to falter.

"Doctor, I don't want to go." She told him desperately, gripping his jacket so she wouldn't fall over as she was shoved through the TARDIS doors.

"'Course you do. You always do. Oh, come now. You're perfectly fine." The Doctor assured, already walking with confident stride to the console while Clara slumped against it with ragged breaths.

"What part of me looks _fine _to you?" She challenged, knowing she must look as bad on the outside as she felt on the inside.

"You look a little off colour but all humans do at some point in their life. Bit of a cough, but that's also to be expected, and besides." He walked up to her in a single step and pressed his large palm firmly to her forehead, causing Clara to shudder at the first real contact they'd had in months. He then threw his arms up in the air for show, going back to his work with the monitor. "You don't even have a fever!"

"But...what...what?!" She challenged, knowing better than anyone else how _quite _wrong he was. "Are you kiddin' me?"

"Just a bit humany hot, but all of you lot are hot to me." He said absently.

"That's flattering Doctor, but please." She looked up at him with pleading, puppy dog resembling, big brown eyes. "I just want to get some rest."

The Doctor seemed to think for a moment, biting his thumbnail as he wracked his brain for an answer. But before Clara knew it he was messing with the monitor again, before slamming his hand onto the large lever and sending them spiraling off into space.

Clara just sighed in defeat, inching her way to the jump seat and plopping down with an exasperated sigh. She gripped the sides to keep herself from flying off during the turbulence of flight, and hoped with everything in her that this would be the quickest trip they'd ever taken.

* * *

><p>"You just <em>had <em>to drag me along, didn't you?"

The Doctor and Clara sat slumped against a wall, hands bound in front of them as they contemplated any means of escape.

To no surprise on Clara's end, the TARDIS had taken them to the wrong location. Instead of 19th Century England they'd been sent to _14th _Century England, where they'd materialised right in the middle of a small town in the midst of the kingdom. Upon exiting, they'd been immediately pursued, shouting charges of witchcraft and sorcery. The two had been nearly out of harms way when Clara's pace had slowed a great deal, her illness causing her to tire much quicker. She'd been captured, and so had the Doctor.

So there they sat, backs against the wall, shoulder's touching eachother, too exhausted to break the contact.

"Suppose it wasn't one of my best plans." The Doctor admitted. "Sorry."

"Speakin' of plans, got one for getting out of here?" Clara asked with a slightly slurred voice, breaking off to emit a harsh coughing fit.

"At least cover your mouth if you're going to expel your filthy human germs." He warned, turning his head away in disgust.

"I would, but I'm a bit _tied up _right now." She reminded him, holding up her bound wrists in front of her for the Doctor to see.

He just sighed. "I'll figure something out."

"You'd better." Clara's head lulled forward before bouncing back up again, eyelids drooping as exhaustion began to take over. She yawned silently, sniffed, then coughed again, resulting in a miserable wince as she permitted her eyes to close on her own accord.

"You should get some sleep. Might have quite a bit of running to do tomorrow." The Doctor acknowledge, finally beginning to truly take in the sight of her ill form.

Her only reply was the repeated lull of her head, this time falling down to rest on his shoulder as she did so.

The Doctor tensed, eying her from above with a mistaken that could be interpreted as terror. He wiggled around a bit, trying to nudge her off of him, but the action only resulted in her unconscious form slumping down further, and her head resting in his lap.

This was almost worse, thought the Doctor. But he supposed, not quite. Clara actually looked quite peaceful. A bit vulnerable too, in a sort of...cute kind of way.

A big boot in his brain kicked him hard for thinking that sort of thing. But he simply brushed it off, sighing and leaning his head back against the stone wall. A moment later, lost into a variety of different thoughts, he realised he'd begun running his fingers through Clara's hair.

He jerked his hand back as if he'd been burned, holding it in the other in case it developed a mind of its own and resumed the action. But then he caught sight of Clara's small, delicate hand reaching up to grab his. For some reason, he didn't find himself resisting, but instead relaxing into her touch as she guided his hand back to her own head.

Grasping the message, the Doctor settled for resuming the comforting stroking. He ran a hand across the back of her head, smoothing her hair against the length of her shoulder while his fingers combed absentmindedly through it. His thumb brushed against her forehead, earning a soft, incoherent mutter at the feel of his cool skin.

"And why do you seem to enjoy this so much?" The Doctor questioned, a bit of an amused smile lighted on his face. He wasn't expecting the answer he received.

"Remind's me you're still you." Clara replied, her voice barely audible, but a faint smile danced across her lips.

The Doctor briefly, involuntarily flinched, somehow feeling a bit stung by the comment. But it didn't matter. He knew he had quite a lot to make up for...he just hadn't known how to start. But he supposed this was one hell of a good start. No matter how reluctant he inwardly felt.

But for Clara, he would do it. Because for Clara, he'd do anything.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Decided to leave off there since the best escape plan I can come up with is just unlocking the cell door with the sonic. (you're so original, dakota.)  
><strong>

**Review!**


	20. An Unfortunate Surprise?

**_An...Unfortunate Surprise?_**

**Prompt: (Guest)**

_- Clara and the doctor wake up on a strange planet with no recollection of how they got there or what happened. They take the tardis back home and Clara's stomach is sore and after a few days they discover she's pregnant._

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

* * *

><p>It was a cool, lapping sensation at her feet that brought Clara into wakefulness. The dense substance swirled about below her knees, drenching her tights and leaving them sticky and uncomfortable. She kept her eyes closed for a minute, enjoying her little dip in the pool, until the light hit her eyelids and she was pulled into full consciousness.<p>

Clara sat up straight with gasp to see that, instead her legs dangling in the pool, she was coated in sand an seated on the shore of a vast ocean. The waves lapped at her legs, and she let out a little squeal of surprise at the chilling sensation it brought.

To the left of her, sprawled out, eyes closed and body limp, was the Doctor.

"Doctor!" She called out anxiously, inching over to kneel at his side and give his cheek a few repetitive pats. "Doctor, wake up." When she earned no response, she settled for the gripping and shaking of his right shoulder.

Slowly, he began moving on his own accord, shifting around slightly and moving his head back and forth. He let out a soft grunt, eyelids knitting closer shut before flying open all at once. He sat up with a start, eyes scanning the area and arms slightly raised, ready to ward off an immediate attack.

"Doctor." Clara panicked. "Where the hell are we?"

"Clara?" He spoke her name slowly, emphasising each syllable. "What happened?"

"I'm trying to ask you that." She replied desperately, eyes betraying her worry. "How'd we get here?"

"Er..." He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to regain his thoughts. "I don't remember."

"We wake up on a bloody beach, and you have no idea how it happened?" She clarified incredulously.

"Not a beach." He confirmed, taking in a big whiff of the air. "Well, yes, technically a beach, but not an Earth one." He rose steadily to his feet, removing his drenched purple tweed coat and draping it over his shoulder. He did a little dance across the sand, feet tapping lightly in various areas. "Not sure where we are, actually."

Clara held her astonished expression as she hoisted herself up next to him, spinning a full circle before her eyes came to rest on a tiny blue speck in the far distance. She tapped the Doctor lightly on the shoulder in attempt to gain his attention, then pointed. "TARDIS?"

The Doctor squinted his eyes, rather ridiculous look upon his face as he did so. "Yep." He affirmed, even more confused than before.

"None of this makes sense." She mused.

"Well," He scratched the back of his head, lips contorted in a slight frown. "At least the TARDIS is here. Let's just get back and see if we can figure this out, eh?" He offered.

"Whatever you say." Clara was still in an inward state of panic, but followed him all the same as he trudged up the sandy hill and set course for the blue box.

* * *

><p>Four days after their little mystery awakening, the duo was still at a complete loss of words. The Doctor had been able to detect nothing out of the ordinary...literally. Nothing at all. They simply had no memory of what the Doctor perceived to have been around a mere day or two.<p>

He'd offered to drop Clara off back at her flat more than once, assuring that he'd alert her as soon as he solved the mystery. But Clara refused, insistent she wouldn't be able to relax until she found out what had happened. The Doctor had quickly agreed, knowing exactly how she felt.

And Clara was even more glad for the decision now. She awoke in her bed upon the TARDIS, her first action being that of clenching her side as a ripple of pain repeatedly passed through her abdomen. She wracked her brain in thought, thinking back to the past few days and pondering whether she'd eaten something bad. She soon concluded that it had been nothing more exotic than perhaps a banana.

Soon, the pain ebbed. Not completely, but enough for her to start feelings considerably more comfortable. But as soon as she sat up, she just flopped back down onto the mattress as another wave of pain hit. She let out a miserable groan, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle.

"Clara?" The unexpected voice startled her, sending a little shiver throughout her body. The soft tapping sound of boots on flooring grew louder and louder until it ceased completely as the Doctor seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"Hmm?" She mumbled into her pillow, curled up in a tight ball.

"Are you okay?" His voice was softened with concern, large hand coming to rest delicately on her bare shoulder.

"Stomach hurts." Clara admitted, voice tapering off to a barely audible sort of mutter as she felt the Doctors cool fingers begin to comb through her luscious brown hair. She let out a sigh of contentment, the simple action seeming to bring her so much comfort.

The Doctor's stroking never ceased as he removed the sonic from his jacket pocket, thumb pressing down slowly onto the button until the tip began to glow a bright green, and the inside uttered its familiar whirring sort of noise. After a few seconds of scanning the noise stopped, and Clara could feel him physically tense. His hand stopped moving, his face went sullen, and he sat up straight on the bed with an awkward clear of his throat. "Um...Clara?"

Clara ignored the pain in that moment, suddenly slightly numbed by fear as she forced herself into a sitting position. "What is it?"

"You're...um..." He broke off, and even in the dim lighting Clara could see a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "You're pregnant." He blurted incredulously.

"I'm _what_?" She demanded, eying him in disbelief. "What the _hell _happened on that planet?"

"I don't even know!" He exclaimed loudly, and the lack of understanding was apparent on his face as well.

"No. There's no way. Your screwdriver must have told you wrong." She stammered.

"Oi, the sonic is never wrong!" He grew slightly defensive, shaking his head to remove the feeling from his mind. "Clara, you're really pregnant."

"But...that's not...I mean, who?! And...but...It couldn't have been _you _could it?" The words all came flying out at once.

"No!" The Doctor shouted, flush darkening. "Well, I suppose not. But I suppose its possible. Quite possible actually, now that I think about it. Probably the most logical explanation right now."

"How is that a logical explanation?!" Clara hissed. "I mean, you and I, we're not even..." She broke off. It was her time to blush now.

"I have no idea." He admitted, the look in his eyes showing just how much he hated not knowing.

"Well..." Clara sighed, tapering off into a faint, confused sort of laugh. "This is a bit of an unfortunate surprise."

"Unfortunate?" He quirked one of his non-existent eyebrows. "How?"

"Doctor, if I'm really pregnant..." She shook her head. "I honestly don't really know what to think right now."

"Happening a bit quick." He nodded in agreement, suddenly itching with the urge to give her a few proper scans to ensure he was right, even though, of course, the sonic is _never _wrong. "Well, I suppose let's take this a bit slowly, then. Why don't you get some rest," He offered with the brief clap of his hands, "Whilst I go run some tests in the console room."

"You expect me to be able to sleep after being told something like this?" She countered.

"Probably the best thing for you right now." He admitted, giving her an undefinable look.

"Whatever." Clara just laid back onto her pillow, fists clenching the duvet as her brain still continued to frantically search for an explanation.

The Doctor sighed with a shake of his head, then lifted himself away from her bedside. With a few shuffling footsteps he departed, leaving Clara to work through her emotions in her own good time.

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><p><strong>AN: This is one of those fics where I'm halfway through and I'm just like "Okay how am I gonna finish this?" So I just kindof left it at that :P**

**Hope you enjoy! Keep the flood of reviews and h/c prompts flowing in ;)**

**Can I just say...Mummy on the Orient Express...OH MY WHOUFFALDI FEELS. **


	21. Make it an A

_**Make it an A**_

**Prompt: (Guest)**

_- Clara is attacked by a teenage boy student who she gave a bad grade to and the doctor finds out. He helps her figure out what to do about it_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

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><p>"See you all, Monday. Don't forget to come forward and collect your papers before you leave. Have a good weekend!" Clara called over the ear-piercing ringing of the school bell, standing up and organising her desk as the students packed away their books. One by one, they each came forth to her desk to receive their graded essays. Some smiled excitedly upon receiving, while some groan miserably. Clara gave tips and pointers for improving in the future to each child that was given a poor grade, then sent them on their way.<p>

"But Miss, mum said that if I didn't have at least a B this week then I wouldn't be able to participate during the school's football game tomorrow!" A boy complained, Jerome Clarke, who was no more than sixteen or seventeen years of age.

"I'm sorry, Jerome, but what you presented wasn't quite B worthy. With a little more effort, I'm sure you'll get there soon." She smiled encouragingly.

"But a _C_?" He gave her an incredulous stare. "I tried really hard this time! I swear! Couldn't you just give me a B, then I make up for it on the next assignment?"

Clara sighed, having finished her organisation, and leaned onto the desk with braced arms and a knowing gaze. "I can't do that, sweetheart, and you know that."

"Don't call me _sweetheart_." The boy hissed, hauling his bag onto his shoulder before stomping away.

Clara shook her head in slight despair, gathering her own belongings before making her way out the door. She was met with loud "_surprise!" _causing her to jump and squeal in shock before spinning around, ready to ward off the attack. But she wasn't met with the face of an attacker, but instead, none other than the face of Danny Pink.

"Ah, Mr. Pink." Clara cleared her throat, trying to maintain a professional tone, but couldn't hide the flushed smile that betrayed her expression.

"Miss Oswald." He replied, eyebrows slightly raised, mocking her voice. "Still on for tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." She winked, holding her books tightly between her arms and her chest, keys jangling in her pocket as she hurried for her car.

* * *

><p>"Thank you so much, again." Clara smiled brightly as she was ushered out the door, planting a kiss on Danny's cheek.<p>

"Sure you don't want me to walk me to your car?" He prompted, a bit of a worried look on his face. "These parts can get a bit dodgy at night."

"Oh, stop your worryin'. I'm parked just round the corner." She gave him one last hug before waving goodbye. "'Night, Danny."

"See you Monday." He exclaimed closing the door with a soft click behind her.

Clara sighed, excited smile still lighted on her face as she marched downstairs and outside of the flat, setting course for her car.

She thought she heard a few footsteps in the distance, causing her to freeze in her tracks. She looked around, feeling a bit paranoid thanks to Danny's warning, but managed to shrug off the feeling and continued her stride.

Then she heard it again. A bit louder now, stopping as soon as she ceased walking. "Who's there?" She challenged, hand already drifting into her jean pocket, ready to call 999 if needed.

But she once again brushed off the feeling, repeatedly telling herself that there was no one out there. She was just being paranoid.

But as she reached her car, she heard them _again. _Instead of calling out, she spun around, staring incredulously at who she saw.

"_Jerome_?"

Jerome's face was screwed up in a hesitant, unsure sort of anger. His hands twitched nervously at his sides, his feet lightly stomped in place, as if he were debating with himself whether to stay or not, and his eyes were clouded. "Miss." He sniffed, seeming more and more unsure of himself with every moment that passed. "I _need _a B."

"Jerome." Clara shook her head with a small laugh, completely oblivious to the extremity of the situation. "I told you, I can't do that."

The twitching subsided, and he took a step closer. His fists clenched and his arms tensed. "Yes you can."

"No..." She eyed him, gaze flickering from his face, to his hands, and back. "I can't."

"I _need _to play in that game tomorrow, but I _can't _if you don't give me a bloody B!"

"Jerome, you're being ridiculous. Run on home. I can give you a life if you need," She offered, gesturing to her car door by unlocking it with the key clasped tightly in her hand.

Jerome shot forward, knocking Clara against the car with such force that her belongings went flying from her grasp. She let out a gasp in surprise, eyes widening and hands raised slightly. "Stop this!"

"I _need _a _B_!" He repeated, spit flying forward as he hissed the words. He gave Clara's shoulders a light shake, tightening his grip and boring his dense eyes into hers.

"Get the hell off me!" Clara tried to trudge forward, but despite the age difference, the boy overpowered her greatly in size. He could really hurt her if he truly wanted to.

"Give me a B." He spat.

"No." Clara replied, pushing against his chest.

Jerome's breathing sped up as he lifted a hand off her shoulder, fingernails digging tightly into his palm as he raised a tight fist. With a scream of rage, his knuckles connected roughly with Clara's cheek, jerking her head to the side and resulting in the distinct sound of a pained gasp.

Clara's eyes were wide with fear now. "Stop this! I'm calling the police." She reached into her pocket to withdraw her mobile, but it was just slapped out of her hand with a furious hiss.

"No you're not." He punched her again.

As much as she tried to hold it in, Clara could hold back the yelp that was emitted from the action. With every bit of strength she contained, she punched him square in the nose, the strike dazing him just long enough for her to wriggle from his grasp.

Tears beginning to form in her eyes, she ran away as quick as she could, plucking the mobile from the asphalt on her journey. But instead of dialing 999, her fingers instinctively performed their own action of inputting the number for the TARDIS.

"What?" The voice on the other end came.

"Doctor!" Clara called into the speaker. "I need your -" She was cut off as she felt a rough blow delivered to her back, sending her sprawling to the ground and the phone flying from her grip. Jerome was upon her again, a crazy, sinful look in his eye as he hauled Clara roughly to her feet, only to pin her against the back wall of the flat building as he did.

"I _have _to play in that game tomorrow!" He shouted. "Give me a B!"

"Jerome...you're insane. Just get off me!" She couldn't manage to develop a proper form of words, desperation and terror growing with every second that passed with those frightening eyes boring down on her.

The so recently innocent boy let out a raged yell. "You know what? Make it an A." He hissed, fist driving straight into her stomach repeatedly...until suddenly, the grip loosened, the building pain ceased, and she heard the distinct sound of a body falling to the ground.

Clara hadn't noticed until now that her eyes had been squeezed shut. She almost reluctantly cracked them open, sliding down the wall and to the ground in the painful process. A flash of hope flared in her heart as she caught sight of the one man she'd been desperate to see. The Doctor.

"Back off." He snarled, hovering over the cowering Jerome sinisterly.

"But I...don't call the police!" He begged scrambling to his feet.

"Hey. Fetus boy. If I tell you to back off, what should you do?!"

"B...back off?" He stammered.

The Doctor nodded, turning his head to give Clara a satisfied look. "He'll go far, this one." Then his searing gaze flew back to the boy. "Now _back off._"

That was all he needed. With a last terrified glance at the large man, Jerome scurried off and disappeared into the night.

Clara let out a pained cough, pressing her palms down onto the asphalt in attempt to bring herself to her feet. The Doctor spun around to take sight of her, raising his eyebrows slightly as if he'd completely forgotten all about her. He was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm tightly around her shoulders and helping her stand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She croaked out, clearing her throat. "Yeah." She repeated, a bit steadier. "I'm fine."

"Who was that? He just looked like a child! What was he, 40? 45?"

"17." Clara shot back, gratefully accepting the Doctor side to lean on as he lead her back to the TARDIS. "You sure did get here quick." She marveled through a wince.

"Time machine remember? Actually took a couple days on my end. Set the wrong date, accidentally ran into Agatha Christi again. Lovely woman." He trailer off distractedly. "But what was it for you? 30 seconds?"

"Somethin' like that." Clara responded with a weak laugh, gratefully sitting herself down on the jump seat after being led into the console room. The Doctor departed into a side room, returning a moment later with a iced compress in hand. He walked up and got down on one knee, pressing the freezing object to the side of her face.

"Ow ow ow." She complained, wincing and flinching away.

"Oi. This'll make it feel a million times better if you can just _stay still_." He prompted, bit of an annoyed expression on his face. He raised it again, placing just below her eye a bit more gently, and muttering a few encouraging words as she managed to remain still.

Clara's hand came to cover his and he slipped his hand out from under her grasp, leaving her to the liberty of keeping the object in place.

"So what, that kid just come out of nowhere and attack you?" The Doctor challenged, itching for details.

Clara shook her head tiredly. "Jerome Clarke. He's one of my students." She informed him. "Crazy bloke kept on demandin' I gave him a better grade. And when I refused, well, you can piece the rest together I assume."

The Doctor nodded slowly, walking around to busily mess about with the controls. After a few moments he peered around the central column, taking in the sight of Clara's truly beaten, worn form, one arm wrapped around her middle while the other held her head and compress up alike. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure."

Not convinced, he walked around the console and cautiously approached her side, placing his hand on top of hers to lower the ice pack. But with innocent intentions of examining her cheek, what he was met with instead were the streaks of many long-flowing tears. "Clara?"

She didn't reply, just turned her head away for the hopes of the slightest bit of privacy as sobs began to wrack her body.

"What's wrong?" He asked a bit awkwardly.

"What do you _think _is wrong?" She demanded, turning on him. "My own student. Just a child, just _beat _me in the streets in the dead of night."

"Bit unfortunate." The Doctor nodded in agreement.

"_Bit unfortunate_?" Clara repeated with incredulous emphasis. "What the hell am I supposed to do about this?!"

"That's quite a good question." The Doctor muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets and taking a step back. "But not one that needs to be answered now."

"What?" She blinked up at him.

"You're exhausted and hurt. You can stay here tonight if you want. Go get some sleep, and we'll figure this out when you wake up." He smiled truthfully, lowering his head a bit so he could properly meet her gaze.

Clara's eyes were still burning with rage, and for an instant she seemed as if she were about to bite back a sharp retort. But instead her mouth closed, her sobbing subsided, and she let out deep sigh. "You're right."

"Am I?" He quirked an eyebrow triumphantly.

Clara laughed a little to herself, painfully hauling herself to her feet. "You still have my bedroom in the same place?"

"Wouldn't dream of moving it." He told her with a shadowed grin.

She simply nodded, limping off towards the east corridor. The Doctor considered stopping her, insisting on getting her properly fixed up before she departed for the night, but dismissed the thought and let her go. Rest was the best thing for her now.

"Doctor?" She turned around.

"Hmm?" He asked distractedly, messing around with the controls once again.

"Thank you." And with that, she walked away.

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><p><strong>AN: Wow this turned out long. I got a bit lazy towards the end, so sorry if it gets a bit rubbish after a while .-.**

**Review and keep the prompts coming!**

**(Anyone catch the House of Anubis or Malcolm Tucker referenes?)**


	22. Sense of Betrayal

_**Sense of Betrayal**_

**Prompt: Guest1787**

_- What if the doctor is possessed by something and he cannot control his actions and cannot say anything but underneath he is conscious, and what if while he is possessed he hurts Clara or does something bad to her and she cries out and begs for him to stop hurting her and it kills him inside bc he can't control his own actions but he can't stop himself but Clara isn't aware that he can't stop himself and she actually thinks it's him or something idk I like Clara whump and there is not enough of it in this fandom_

**Note: Agreed, my friend. Agreed.**

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O., Mr. Clever**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Dark!Doctor (of sorts), Physical Abuse**

**Another Note: People, pay attention to the ratings, warnings, and the given prompt ^ no one's making you read the chapter if you don't want to. Some of you just seem a bit bothered by some of the recent posts, but _that's whump. _If you don't prefer it, just move on to the next chapter :)**

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><p>He could feel the parasite eating away at his mind, tearing apart his subconscious limb from limb. He was slowly losing control over each of his actions, whether that may be physical or mental. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging roughly into his palms without his personal permission. His feet shuffled back and forth across the small floor space allowed, and he could feel the corners of his lips twitching up into a smirk. Then, with the full sideways jerk of his body, he was back.<p>

"Get out of my head!" The Doctor shouted desperately. "We're not doing this again."

He jerked sideways again.

"Oh, but Doctor." It was his own lips that moved and his own voice that spoke, but beneath the physical traits was the wicked consciousness of the Cyber Planner. "I'm just trying to have some fun."

_Jerk. _

"No. No, no, no. You get out of my head right now!" The Doctor begged, once again fully conscious, but he was losing more and more control over his motor actions.

_Jerk. _

"No, Doctor. You took away my army, you crushed my plans, so all I have left to do is ensure that you _suffer._" The Cyber Planner spat. "New and improved, my friend! No outward physical changes," He said, noting the lack of metal covering the side of the Doctor's face this time. "And, I've gotten a bit more...well...c_lever _in the time I've spent waiting for this moment."

_Jerk_.

"You can't hurt me." The Doctor muttered, trying to hang onto every last ounce of dignity that he could. "Nothing you can do will ever hurt me enough, so I think you should know that you're wasting your energy." The gaps of time that the Doctor had control over his speech was narrowing more and more. He was losing control.

_Jerk._

"You're right." The Cyber Planner hissed, breaking off as a voice echoed from beyond the corridor.

"Doctor?" The innocent voice of Clara came. "You in the console room?"

He laughed. "Never said I was going to be hurting you in _that _way."

_Jerk._

"No!"

_Jerk._

"Ha!" The Cyber Planner shouted victoriously. "End of the line, Doctor."

"Doctor, you talkin' to yourself again?" Clara rolled her eyes, approaching him with a large smile.

_Clara, run! Get out! Please, just go!_ Called the Doctor's subconscious from underneath, but of course, she didn't hear a word.

"Sort of." His own voice replied, tinted by the scowl of Mr. Clever. The Doctor felt his feet moving forward, a bit stiff at first, but they soon fell into rhythm as he slowly approached Clara.

Oblivious to any sort of strange abnormalities, Clara threw her coat across the jump seat and turned to him with a giddy smile. "Where to today?"

"Clara." He _tsked_ his tongue. "Clara, Clara, Clara." He took a few ambling steps closer, raising a hand to caress her cheek with a sinful smile. "Oh, Clara."

_No!_ The Doctor screamed from behind the veil of his subconscious.

"Everything all right?" She asked innocently, suddenly beginning to glare at him warily.

"No actually." He tapped his large chin, smile widening into a sinister smirk as he raised a tight fist. He forcefully bore his hand down onto the side of her face, sending Clara reeling to the side with a pained gasp.

"W...what the hell?" She stammered, palms grinding roughly into the floor. Clara hauled herself shakily to her feet, staring at the Doctor with wide, frightened eyes.

"You've been very bad, Clara." He muttered sinisterly, head lowered and eyes boring into hers as he approached closer. "Time for you to be punished."

_Stop this! Don't hurt her!_

"Doctor..." Clara back-pedaled quickly, driving herself into the wall. "Doctor, what's the matter with you!?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong with me!" He exclaimed. "Its _you _that's the problem." He stomped up closer, smirk painted on his lips.

"Please...you're scaring me." Her voice trembled and her hands shook violently at her sides. "What's going on?"

"Oh, just a bit of revenge." His fist drove straight into her stomach, and she collapsed with a gasp of pain.

* * *

><p>Clara's breathing sped up to a dangerous level. She cowered in the corner, eye's wide, heart thumping wildly in her chest, overwhelmed by the greatest sense of betrayal. "Doctor!"<p>

"Yes?" He smirked.

"W...what are you doing?" Her breaths came out in labored gasps, both shock and pain induced. In a million, in a _billion _years, she never would have seen this coming.

What had she done? What had she _finally _done that had made it come to...this? Part of her knew that someday, eventually, he'd get tired of her. One more little screw up of hers, and he'd finally have had the end of it. But she'd expected nothing more than being kicked off the TARDIS...but here he was, the Doctor, her friend, making her _scared._

He clasped both hands around her neck, squeezing tightly with a devilish grin. Clara gripped and sucked in a choking gasp, nails digging and scraping roughly at his skin. "D..." She tried to spit out his name, but it just came out as a strangled sob.

She was beginning to teeter on the edge of consciousness, mind swarming through everyone she loved. Her dad, her gran, her students, no one would know what happened to her. She'd just have vanished unexpectedly, when in reality, she'd have been brutally murdered... on a spaceship... by her best friend.

Then, just as the grip had began, it vanished all together, sending Clara reeling to the ground and clutching her neck with a fit of coughs. She pressed her forehead to the ground, eyes squeezing shut tight, just waiting for the next blow. But it never came. Instead she saw the Doctor standing a few metres away, shakily, tensely reaching into his jacket pocket to withdraw his psychic paper. A scowl was on his face as he did so, gaze fixed on the arm that seemed almost involuntarily moving. He flung the paper towards her, landing at her side with a light thud. She hesitantly picked it up, eyes never leaving the Doctor's face until she brought herself to glance down.

_It's not me. Run! _It read, and Clara's pounding heart stopped.

Just as quick as she had fallen she jumped to her feet, relief and happiness swarming through her despite the extremity of the situation. Her sudden smile almost immediately faltered, though as the Doctor, or whoever was in his mind, was upon her again, driving a fist across her face and into her ribs.

Clara went sprawling to the ground with a cry of pain, but she kept her tight grip on the paper. The man was looming above her, just waiting for her to make another move before he would attack again. She risked a glanced downward, blurry eyes fixing on the new message.

_Second door on the left. Get the pulsar! I can't hold him for long. _

Just then, she heard him emit a gasp and saw him physically tense. "No!" He shouted. "Stop that!"

The Doctor must have regained some control, she decided, making to break for the corridor, but as soon as Clara was on her feet she was sent spiraling to the ground just as quick, miserably clutching her chest. She let out a pained cough, head raising to fix on the door ahead of her, and she was overwhelmed by a sudden surge of determination. Practically dragging herself the whole way, she managed to reach the room, hand flying forward to connect with the doorknob as she collapsed inside.

The room was littered with various mechanical and electronic devices, all combined into one...quite incredibly large pile. Clara immediately went digging through, trying to find something that she would recognise from her previous encounter with a Cyber Pulsar. After many frantic moments of clawing and crying, her hand came to rest on the desired device.

But as it was placed on her hand she heard the Doctor's footsteps pounding down the hallway, growing louder and louder. Clara had barely enough time to pursue her final surge of adrenaline, flinging herself to her feet and pressing her against the wall parallel with the doorway. The Doctor burst in, practically snarling, stepping in further and scanning the area for his prey.

And while he was distracted, Clara took what might be her only opportunity. With a raging howl, she summed up all of her remaining energy and leaped forward, roughly pressing the pulsar to the back of his head, then back-pedaling into the corridor and slumping against the wall.

* * *

><p>The Doctor shook violently as the electromagnetic pulse surged through his body, sending him plummeting to the ground. He lay still for a moment before slowly rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a hand on his chest and many ragged breaths. Then with a quick gasp, his eyes widened, and he flung himself to his feet. "Clara!?"<p>

His hearts stopped as he caught sight of her. Backed against the wall in the main corridor she sat, breathing heavily, hands shaking at her sides. Her entire face was bruised and an arm was wrapped around her stomach, and the sounds she emitted was one of devastated, pained, confused sobs.

"Clara..." The word came out cracked, his own voice heavily tinted with emotion as he flung himself to her side. "Clara."

At the sight of him, she immediately began scrambling away, eyes wide with a sort of terror that tore his hearts in two.

"Clara, its me. I'm back. Its me. You did it." He laughed halfheartedly, eyes already beginning to cloud. "It's _me_."

"Doctor..." She began, breathing speeding up as the tears continued to fill her eyes.

"My Clara..." He wrapped his arms around her tight, inflicting a sharp intake of breath from the girl at the action. He loosened his grip, but didn't let her go. He couldn't. He buried his face in her shoulder, rubbing small circles on her back, and seeing one of his own tears fall to the ground with a soft _plop_. "I'm so..._so _sorry...I couldn't control him..." He pulled back, holding her face in both hands and realising just how much he'd hurt her. Just as much emotionally as physically.

"I'm okay." The words came out choppy and hoarse, the obvious sign that she in fact _wasn't _okay. The Doctor could see more than just the physical flaws. He could see it in her dark brown eyes. She was truly, horribly, _hurting. _

"I did this..." He mused, whole body beginning to tremble. "I hurt you..."

"No you didn't." Clara insisted, voice still choppy as the result of her continuing sobs. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was!" He countered, face screwing up in a scowl, before immediately faltered. He didn't have time to be blaming himself. He wasn't the one in danger here. "Let's get you to the med bay." He whispered, voice all of a sudden softening. "Can you walk?"

Clara's eyes seemed to cloud again, and her eyebrows furrowed slightly in apology. With the close of her eyes and the pink tint in her cheeks, she shook her head.

"Hey, its all right." The Doctor soothed, hand delicately reaching out to wipe the tears from her cool, pale cheeks. "Come here." He stood up on still shaky legs, remaining hunched over as he slipped his hands beneath her body and hauled her up into his arms.

Clara immediately let out a sharp cry of pain, fists gripping tightly at the lapels of his jacket and head pressing firmly into his chest. The Doctor winced in the deepest sympathy, holding her close to him and pressing a soft kiss to her hair. "It'll be okay. You're safe. It's okay." He whispered, tear once again leaving the safety of his eye and falling down to land lightly on Clara's dress. "I'm right here."


	23. Reflections and Regrets

**A/N: By the way, I'm probably gonna be going back to every-other-day posting. I'm gonna be starting two new big fanfiction projects pretty soon, and they're gonna eat up a bit of my time :P**

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><p><strong><em>Reflections and Regrets<em>**

**Prompt: Cmdr's Monkey**

_- Twelve is on his own after the events of KtM, and he's hurt during an excursion through the jungles of an alien planet. He's alone and as he tries to make it back to the TARDIS, he reflects on Clara and how he's treated her since his regeneration._

**Characters: 12th Doctor**

**Rating: K+**

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><p>He'd just been trying to help the locals. He'd just been acting on instinct. He'd heard a scream, and he'd pursued it. Because that was what he did. Helped people. Wasn't it?<p>

Deep in the thicket of bamboo and itchy leaves, the Doctor trudged on, tripping over rocks and logs and occasionally running directly into a prickly tree trunk. Disoriented, confused, and badly injured, he blinked against the black dots clouding his vision and the tiny sticks that seemingly never ceased to claw and scratch at his face. Practically every inch of his exposed skin was covered in little red streaks, the occasional bead of blood plopping onto the leaves he crunched at his feet.

He risked a glance behind him, nearly toppling over with the relief that the action accompanied. His pursuers had given up. With a tiny burst of pride he brushed off his sleeves, giving himself a satisfactory nod. But the rush lasted him mere moments. In a flurry of leaves and a jumbled mind, the Doctor went sprawling straight into the ground.

They'd gassed him, he remembered vaguely. He'd arrived in the little town shortly after landing, feet automatically pounding in the direction of the distressed wail that floated his way. Mind searching the thousands of possibilities, the worst of them were placed at the front. _Cyberment, Daleks, Slitheen, _his brain pondered. _Could be anything. _But he couldn't have been further from wrong.

The trail had lead him straight into a small, household hut, completed with straw and the occasional wooden plank. _Pretty low-maintenance for such a high-tech planet. _He'd immediately thought. But the only danger was, in fact, nothing more threatening than a young woman in the midst of _labor. _The Doctor had gone wide-eyed, muttered a quick, embarrassed apology, and run out. But before he could get far he'd been pinned down, beaten, and forced to inhale a venomous vapor for the punishment of disrespecting an innocent woman. _Oversensitive freaks. _He'd thought.

And since then he'd been on the run. Up until now, at least. He'd escaped with much difficulty, and had spent possibly the last hour trying to find the TARDIS in the midst of the thick jungle.

But now he could barely move. The Doctor began breathing heavily, digging his palms roughly into the rocky soil. With many grunts of effort and pained groans, he managed to haul himself to his feet.

He couldn't die here. He just couldn't. This face was beginning to grow on him, and he knew it was growing on Clara too...at least he hoped.

Clara. What would he say to her? It had been mere months since his latest regeneration, and he and Clara hadn't exactly been...tight...since then. Quite the opposite, actually. The distance between them had seemed grow more and more instead of closing. It had been a huge transition, for her more than him, he knew. She'd been so close to Bow Tie. The constant hand holds, cheek touches, and close hugs he knew had delivered her a great deal of comfort. But he hadn't managed to give her that comfort for a long while, now. He'd previously brushed it off, telling himself as well as Clara, well, in his head at least, that it was simply a trait that his twelfth self didn't manage to acquire. The need for closeness. The longing for that distance to be closed...he just didn't really feel it anymore.

But perhaps that had been a mistake. Maybe _he_ didn't feel the need for intimacy, but Clara, he at least assumed, did. Sometimes, more often than not, she would try to breach the gap. Whether it was going for a hug, which he refused to allow each time, or even sometimes the brief holding of his hand. More of a comforting gesture than anything. Each time, the Doctor tended to flail about, once again widening the emotional gap between the two. And he was finally realising that that may have been a mistake.

The Doctor was beginning to see things through Clara's eyes. He'd...he'd treated her like _dirt. _He cared about her. There was no doubt about it, and to him he'd been demonstrating that care in the decisions he made and the actions he performed. But his way of demonstration couldn't be more opposite of the way he did things as he previous self. To him, they made perfect sense. But to Clara...well. He supposed he wouldn't know. Not unless he spoke to her, which he couldn't yet bring himself to do.

And now, he might not get the chance. The TARDIS was coming into a range of sight, but the Doctor wasn't sure he would make it. The large blue box seemed like a tiny spec, even from the close range. His breathing was becoming more ragged, and his vision was clouding. If he didn't make it to the medical bay soon, he would die. Regenerate, yes, but still...die.

But with one final surge of effort, with one more motivational word in his mind, he pressed on. He repeated the word again and again in his mind, screaming it from the inside as he gathered up every ounce of adrenaline he still contained. And with a few stumbling, shuffling leaps, he collapsed inside the awaiting TARDIS, muttering his savior word one last time before slipping into oblivion.

And that word, was Clara.

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><p>When the Doctor was brought back into consciousness, it was done very slowly. His eyelids seemed almost glued shut, the exhaustion overwhelmingly thick. His whole body ached, throbbing with every slight shifting movement. But a cooling, damp sensation on forehead brought him a small deal of comfort, and convinced him to push past the thick haze. With struggling, albeit determined efforts, he opened his eyes.<p>

What he saw wasn't even close to what he'd expect. Instead of the uncomfortable dirt of the jungle or the cold metal grating of the TARDIS floor, the Doctor was sprawled atop a soft, plump mattress, his head propped up by a collection of fluffy pillows. He wasn't alone, either. Seated at his bedside, looming over him with a mixed-emotion frown, was Clara.

He moved to sit up, palms pressing onto warm fabric of his bedspread, but Clara gently pushed at his chest with a delicate hand. "Don't try to sit up." She muttered, her face blank and her voice oddly emotionless.

The Doctor complied, taking full notice of the sensation on his head. Clara's free hand was pressed atop, rubbing cold compress along his forehead and cheek before depositing it onto the nightstand. She sighed, clasping her hands in her lap and clearing her throat to break the silence. "How you feeling?"

"What the hell happened?" He croaked, coughing as he did so and staring up at Clara with a face of utter confusion. "How'd _you _get here?"

"TARDIS showed up in my flat. Thought you were comin' to apologise, you know, for last week," She trailed off, shaking her head with a light pink tinting her cheeks. "But I found you unconscious on the floor. What happened?"

"Ran into a bit of trouble." He stated simply, ignoring her protests as he lifted himself into a sitting position.

"A bit?" Clara chuckled softly. "More than a bit, I'd say."

"That bad?"

She nodded, face growing dark.

"Well," He cleared his throat. "Thanks for showing up."

"Thank your box." Clara told him with a smile. "Must have known you were in trouble and flew you to my flat. Clever girl." She patted the wall, the withdrew her hand with an embarrassed scowl.

"Clara?"

She turned to look at him, tilting her head and giving him that puppy dog-resembling face.

"I'm..." He broke off, then shook his head. He couldn't bring himself to utter the simply word. _I'm sorry. _He willed.

Clara gave him a lopsided smile, inching a bit closer and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He tensed, but didn't protest, finding himself relaxing a bit as she put a hand on his shoulder. "I know."

"You do?" He raised a large, thick eyebrow.

"Yeah." She bit her lip, breaking into a barely-audible giggle. She gave him a pat on the back. "You tend to talk in your sleep."


	24. Break In

_**Break In**_** (****What an original title! I'm so smart.)**

**Prompt: Guest (Kelly)**

_- 12th Doctor and Clara if possible. Someone breaks into Clara's flat and she gets injured and she calls the Doctor to help her._

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+  
><strong>

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><p>To Clara, peaceful nights were never in fact that; peaceful. Her wild, stressful adventures with the Doctor seemed to never <em>actually <em>cease. Her her mind at least. Sure, it was only every few days or so that he swept her away in the TARDIS, taking her away to this place and that, before dropping her off back in her little London flat as if nothing had ever happened. Sure, it was only every few days. But _mentally, _it was every waking moment.

_And sleeping. _Clara thought with a groan, eyelids reluctantly fluttering open at the sound of a clattering, clashing noise in the other room. She sighed, reprimand already bubbling its way to the surface of her mind. Her cheeks burned with anger for the man's insensitivity and inconsiderate nature. Could he just give her _one_ peaceful night?

The noise was growing a bit louder now, as if it were working its way closest to her bedroom. In her half-conscious haze, she didn't have the energy to ponder what the Doctor was brewing up to be causing such a racket. Clara swung her legs off the bed, rubbed some sleep from her eyes, and started for the hallway.

But what she caught sight of was in fact, not the Doctor, but a totally unrecognisable being in a sort of head-to-toe black covering. He tore recklessly through all of her belongings, taking one glance at each individual item before flinging it to the ground. Clara gasped in surprise and darted back into her room, already fishing her mobile from the bedside table. The familiar tapping of the Doctor's number echoed in her fingertips, having to take a couple rough attempts to get past the obstacle of her violently trembling hands.

"Clara?" Came the confused reply after a few impatient rings.

"Doctor." She hissed, keeping her voice low but firm. "I think someone's broken in."

"What makes you think that?"

"There's a man going through my things."

"I'd call that a bit more than a hunch, don't you think?" He chuckled.

"Shut up." She cried desperately. "Can you help me?"

"What could I do? Just call 888. Or is it 8-Acorn-88? No, wrong planet. 999?"

Clara groaned in frustration and a bit of despair. Settling for taking matters into her own hands, she scanned the room for a sort of weapon. She smirked as her eyes came to rest upon a fallen metal bar from her closet, and she swooped it up in one hand with a satisfied nod.

When the Doctor didn't hear a reply, he furrowed his thick brow. "Okay, fine. I've got the TARDIS. I'll be there in a moment."

"Yeah?" She huffed. "Well I've got a big stick."

"Clara, don't try anything insanely idiotic." He warned.

"That's your job." She replied with a laugh, tossing the phone onto the bed before gripping the pole tightly in both hands. With a little bounce to get her adrenaline pumping and her muscles ready, she burst into the hallway.

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><p>The Doctor threw the phone down in annoyance, already running his hand along the console to configure the proper coordinates. Earth, London, 3:47 a.m. "Easy one."<p>

Well, maybe not _quite _so easy. But it wasn't his fault! Faulty TARDIS. The navigation system had always been knackered. Yeah. Blame the TARDIS.

But he succeeded! Almost succeeded. A bit closer to 4:00 a.m., but it was close enough, wasn't it? Besides, nothing drastic ever happened in a mere thirteen minutes.

The TARDIS materialised in the middle of the flat with a whir and a thud. The Doctor peered through the doors, looking around with a little nod of satisfaction. "Clara!" He called, searching the halls, bedrooms, bathroom, everywhere, and beginning to grow _slightly _concerned when he caught no sight of her. "Clara?" He repeated, voice elevated in volume as he trotted towards the kitchen. The house was a mess. Valuables and invaluables were flung about all over the place, barely leaving him an empty place to step. He winced as the metallic clatter rang out through the flat as he tripped over an old pot, then another, then a rammed backwards into the cupboard. He closed his eyes as glasses came spilling out all around him, crashing into the tiles with a piercing screech. Only when it was all over did the Doctor open his eyes.

And then he saw her. Sprawled out amidst the broken class and scattered rubble, long hair strung out around her and falling over her face, and hands clenched into tight fists at her side, was Clara. The Doctor froze in surprise, unable to help the frightened feeling that insisted on clawing at his insides as he forced himself to take a step forward. Then another, then another, until he was close enough to drop to his knees at her side.

"Clara." He whispered, reaching out hesitant hands to nudge her onto her back. Her head lulled limply to the side, revealing a gash and a trickle of blood flowing from her temple. Terrified, he scanned her with the sonic and squinted to decipher the readings before closing it back up, sighing with the deepest relief. Mild concussion, superficial wound, simply unconscious. She was okay. The Doctor couldn't hold back a little bemused chuckle at the large lead pipe that lay against the wall. She'd been the one to perform the 'insanely idiotic' action after all. He scanned the room watchfully for any sight of a lingering intruder, mixed emotions confusing him at the realisation he'd gotten away. With a sigh, the Doctor shook his head, and gave Clara's cheek a soft pat.

"Oi. Wake up." He barked. "Nap time's over."

Clara shifted and moaned, but didn't fully wake.

"Clara." He shouted.

No reply.

"Well, fine then. Gonna make me do all the work, are you?" He gentry thrust his hands under her shoulders and knees, hauling her up into his arms as he rose to his feet. He shifted a bit uncomfortably, the sudden intimacy recently unfamiliar, but nonetheless, managed to carry her lightly through the halls.

Clara subconsciously curled up against him, pressing her face into his chest and emitting a slight smile. The Doctor physically tensed, looking down at her awkwardly as he walked through the TARDIS doors. But the action came with zero results. Clara simply remained in her unconscious haze, gripping the lapels of his jacket in her little fists.

The Doctor just sighed, kicking himself mentally for his inability to contain the small smile that danced across his lips. "Clara Oswald." He muttered. "Why do I even bother?"

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><p><strong>AN: Running out of pending prompts! Keep them coming ;) h/c, whump, hit me. **

**Oh, and review. That'd be nice :D**


	25. Secrets

**A/: Really sorry about the slow updates. Insanely busy lately. That, plus another fanfic project I'm working on. Just eating up a lot of my time :P Those who gave the most recent prompts, just know it may take a little while for me to get around to them . Sorry. **

_**Secrets**_

**Prompt: (Guest)**

_- Clara's acting weird and 12 suspects something's wrong with her, so he goes back in her timeline to see the event that's changed her (knowing he can't do anything to change or stop it bc he'll alter her timeline) and discovers she was raped_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

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><p>Something was wrong. That was all he knew so far.<p>

For the past several days, he'd been making it a specific effort to keep a close eye on her. In the years they'd known each other, he'd managed to practically gain the ability to read her like a book. So he knew that something was...different. Off about her. Her usual bright smile had been tending to falter in a sort of lopsided frown. The energetic light in her eyes had been replaced with a sad, somehow forced glimmer. She was even dressing differently. Each morning she emerged with a sort of baggy clothing, sweatpants, t-shirt, as opposed to her usual fancy blouses and dresses. She'd also been tending to spend more nights aboard the TARDIS than in her own flat. She hadn't done that since his last regeneration. And even then, it was rare.

The Doctor couldn't tell what it was, but something was wrong with Clara Oswald. And he was determined to find out.

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><p>A week. It had started about a week ago, so that's how he set the coordinates. London, England, UK, Earth, one week into the past.<p>

The TARDIS materialised on the street just outside Clara's flat. The Doctor peered through the tiny crack in the doors, anxiously watching for any sign of the slightest abnormality. Anything out of place. Anything to give him some type of hint to what could be wrong.

But he saw nothing besides the rubbish tumbling across the grass and the streetlights illuminating the path. Still, he forced himself to wait, standing watch for he didn't know how long. When the clock was approaching midnight, he sighed and stepped back inside.

But he didn't give up.

"Okay, let's try a bit earlier." He muttered, pressing a few buttons and sending him lurching off into the vortex. The TARDIS landed with a thud and the Doctor skidded hastily towards the doors. Again, he waited. Again, he didn't know how long.

He still wasn't giving up.

He spent many hours like that. Rushing back and forth between the console and the doors, peering through the crack in hopes of detecting something out of the ordinary. Many hours he repeated the process over and over, finally forcing himself into succumbing into the temptation of giving up, but decided to give it one last go.

About a week and a half prior. A week and a half before Clara's sudden transformation. Peering through the doors once again, he felt determined on reaching his discovery.

And it wasn't in vain.

He could see her in the distance. Very faintly, almost like a silhouette, but he knew it was her. He could tell by the distinct way her chocolate brown curls fell around her shoulders, and slightly down the length of her back. He'd studied that sight long enough now to recognise it even blindly. It was her.

But Clara's figure wasn't the only one in the surrounding area. The Doctor squinted his eyes, straining for a better glimpse. She had her back against the wall of a building, and there was a dark figure looming over her. He could hear shouts and screams, but even his sensitive ears were unable to detect the words. Even his eyes were straining to appropriately make sense of the sight. Only partially because of the great distance. But mainly...because he refused to believed what was being played out blankly in front of him.

She was being hit. Repeatedly. Over and over. The Doctor set foot outside the TARDIS, itching to rush to her aid, but departed back as he knew the action would have dire consequences. So he was forced to watch. Watch the abuse, which went from beatings, to something much worse.

Clara was pinned to the ground now, and her struggles were becoming futile. The Doctor watched in possibly more agony than Clara was feeling herself, simply at the nagging reminder that he couldn't do anything to stop it. She was being hurt. Abused. _Violated. _

When the scene took an even sicker turn, he slammed the doors shut and backtracked to the console. He'd seen enough...more than enough. And what hurt him almost as much as before, was the fact that she _hadn't told _him. She'd kept this dark, torturous secret piled up inside her, blocking any hopes of assistance out. She'd put up a wall. A wall that the Doctor had previously been able to breach. Perhaps with difficulty, but he'd managed. But couldn't anymore. Not as this man. Not with this face...

He shook his head in annoyance, feet automatically striding down the corridor. He set course for Clara's bedroom, brain wracking for what he'd say upon reaching her. Would he downright confront her? Would he pretend it didn't happen? Would he try to get her to admit it on her own?

Or...none of the above, he decided, slight smile playing on his face as he delicately walked inside. There she lay, fast asleep, curled up in her own little bundle of innocence. Her hair was strung out across the pillow, creating a sort of luscious brown waterfall against the white background. Her tiny hands were curled up into fists, tucked protectively beneath her chin. She looked adorable...he had to admit. So innocent. So frail. So...Clara.

The Doctor found himself seated at her bedside, gazing admiringly upon her sleeping form. He absentmindedly hovered a hand above her head out of habit, aching to run his fingers delicately through her hair, but denied himself that bit of contact. With a sigh, his hand fell back against his side and settled for grasping her warm hand lightly in his.

"Clara." He muttered. "I know I'm different. I know that things between us are...well, different. Difficult even. Confusing. I know that I'm not the same man you ran away with. I know I'm not that bow tie wearing idiot that always seemed to make you smile. I know I'm not him..." His thumb stroked the top of her hand with light affection, and he drew in a shaky breath. "But yet...I am. I _am _him. I know you can't see it, maybe you think you can, but I know you can't. But I'm not asking you to compare me, or rate me against the other one...just..." He broke off. "Just see _me._ And _I _am still your friend. And_ I _still don't want to see you hurt." He stood up, brushing his sweaty palms across his trousers and cleared his throat nervously. "You got that?" It came out as a hiss, but the concern was still lighted in his eyes. The Doctor shook his head, gave a little lopsided smile, and left her to rest.

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><p>Clara's eyes fluttered open ever so slowly, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness of the room. She drew in a shaky breath as she sat up straight, crossing her legs and allowing her hands to twitch a bit in her lap.<p>

She stared at the agape doorway, the shadow of the departing Doctor growing smaller and smaller against the glimpse of the corridor wall she could see.

And for the first time in days, Clara smile. A real, heartfelt, loving, _happy _smile.

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><p><strong>AN: Just a little note about a couple of the prompts I've received.**

**1. First off, I feel the need to reemphasize that I'm _not _writing any type of smut. What I did back in chapter 14 is as far as I'll go. I'll do a lot of things, I'll write a lot of things, but smut just isn't my preference. I'm not saying its wrong or anything to those of you that _do _write it, but I want you all to know that I'm not personally interested. **

**To the guest: Me, (the guest's name is me its not actually, well, me.. xP -confusion-) I'll still write the prompts you sent, but I'll twist it a bit to where it doesn't turn out smutty. A bit like a did in chapter 14. :)**

**2. And also, I got a prompt a couple days ago, something about 11 and Clara being with Amy and Rory and Rory helps Clara deliver a baby or something. I'm not going to write that type of fic, solely because this is a Whouffle fic collection, so I'm just going to stick with that pairing and that era :)**


	26. Scrambled Timelines and Double Doctors

_**Of Scrambled Timelines and Double Doctors**_

**Prompt: TheBigCat**

_- Clara is poisoned at school for some reason. She's unconscious in her classroom when the Doctor finds her._

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

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><p>The school bell rang and the children were dismissed. One by one they all hastily exited the classroom, bumping and tripping over each other in their rush. Within mere seconds the room was completely cleared out, all except for English teacher Clara Oswald who still stood behind her desk towards the front of the room. She stacked her papers and organised her books, packing them tightly into her bag. Closing it up, she swung it over her shoulder, and started for the door.<p>

But it immediately went crashing back to the floor as she drew in a sudden gasp for air. She pressed her palms firmly into the edge of her desk, a sudden tightening in her chest taking her by considerable surprise.

She attempted to call out, but was now finding breathing to become a chore. She could feel beads of sweat forming along her brow, mind wracking over possibility after possibility. What was happening, and why was it happening so quickly?

Then Clara fell to her knees, desperately trying to inhale a full gulp of air, but didn't manage enough to keep herself in the waking world. She slumped to the floor and the world went black.

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><p>Clara was late, and the Doctor was irritated. They'd arranged to meet up outside the school immediately after her classes came to an end. According to his companion, her English classes came to an end at the precise time of 2:00 in the afternoon. It was 2:01. He was growing impatient.<p>

Forcing himself to wait a while longer didn't calm the nerves that were steadily gripping at his insides. 2:05 by now, no sign of her. 2:10. 2:15, he continued to wait. When his watch struck nearly half past two, he let out a low grumble of frustration and burst through the school doors. Hastily stomping down the halls, nearly trampling confused students in his wake, the Doctor made his way to Clara's classroom, reprimanding speech already bubbling at his throat. "Clara! I've been waiting for -" He broke off as his eyes came to rest on her unconscious form, sprawled out behind her desk.

"Clara!" He fell to his knees at her side, wide eyed, frantically scanning her with his sonic. He pressed two fingers to the side of her neck, hands shaking violently as he felt the slow, weak thudding beneath his fingertips. "Clara." He roughly shook her shoulder, desperately trying to rouse her. His hearts nearly leaped out of his chest in joy as he saw her beginning to stir. His hand automatically connected with hers, squeezing in reassurance as her eyes cracked open.

"D...Doctor..." The word came out as a hoarse wheeze, barely noticeable to anyone but him. Clara's hand flew to her chest, pressing hard against her sternum as she managed to role onto her side with a pained groan.

"Clara, hey, its okay." The Doctor sighed in relief, keeping his grip on her hand while his free one began to comb through her hair. "You're okay." His eyes were still filled with concern, and he wasted not another moment before delicately lifting her into his arms.

She immediately let out a wheezing sort of gasp as he did so, curling up against his chest and clutching the lapels of his jacket in her tiny hands. She gripped them so tight that her knuckles went white. "Can't... breathe..." She gasped out, trying desperately to breath in a full inhalation of life saving oxygen. But the actions were futile. With another pained attempt, the lack of air began affecting her brain. Her grip loosened, her head lulled back, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

"No, no, no." The Doctor hissed, picking up his pace throughout the halls before bursting through the school doors. "Hang in there. That's my girl. You can do it. You're gonna be okay." Her chest was rising and falling with shallow, rapid movements, lungs unable to gain enough air for her to remain alert. Her face was growing pale, despite the heat radiating off her skin, and her lips were covered in a blue tinge. He was running out of time.

Within mere seconds it seemed he was back in the TARDIS, and already rushing down the corridor in search of the medical bay. Weird, he thought he'd parked it in a completely different area, but dismissed the feeling. Clara's breaths had nearly come to an outright stop, now nothing but the occasional gasp by the time the Doctor managed to lay her down. But when he did, it was on the tile flooring in the center of the room, completely ignoring the plush bed near the edge that would be much more comfortable. He was too late. Well, almost. But he'd been hoping with everything in him that it wouldn't come to this.

She'd stopped breathing. Her pulse had diminished to a a barely noticeable thumping. So the Doctor did what he had to do, apologising in advance for the unavoidable pain that would follow in the aftermath. "Come on, Clara." He began chest compression, interlocking his fingers and pressing down with great force. He winced when he felt a snap, causing him to freeze his actions briefly in the realisation that he'd cracked a rib. But he couldn't afford to cease. A few more compressions and he lowered his lips to hers, pinching her nose and breathing in a large gust of air.

He repeated this process for what seemed to be an eternity, tears already beginning to prickle the corners of his eyes. "Not like this." He shouted. "Come on, Clara! Come back to me."

And as if on cue, her eyes remained shut, but her chest heaved in the deepest gulp of oxygen she could manage. She turned onto her side, tipping over into the Doctor's awaiting arms, coughing as he carried to to the bed.

He was laughing with relief, gently lowering her head to the pillow and pressing a triumphant kiss to her cheek. "You're okay."

* * *

><p>When Clara's eyes opened, the action didn't last for long. The lighting of her surroundings fiercely burned her eyes, but reaching up to rub at them she came in contact with an obstacle. An little cold, plastic object, placed over her mouth and nose, forcing well-needed oxygen into her lungs. It was then that her eyes shot open fully, and her breathing sped up. She looked around frantically, not knowing where she was, why she was there...what was going on?<p>

She attempted to calm down, but it just resulted in more panic. She closed her eyes, opened them again, and repeated, wondering if this was just some weird dream. But to her dismay, it wasn't.

She was restrained, too. Attempt to move her limbs were futile. She couldn't see the restraints, as she could barely raise her head, but she felt the cold pinching on her arms, resulting in a sort of numbing feeling coursing throughout.

Suddenly, she felt a cold, soft sensation on her hand, curling tightly around her fingers and gently squeezing. She attempted to pull away, terror still gripping at her insides, mind wracking every possibility of what type of demon might be trying to drag her into the depths of oblivion. She let out a little yelp of protest and the grip tightened, opposite fist clenching in fright and helplessness.

But all those feelings, all those fears, all the..._everything..._faded away when she managed to lift her head.

Seated at the edge of her bed, tightly holding her warm hand in both of his, was her favourite compilation of purple tweed, fancy hair and bow ties. The Doctor loomed over her, a soft smile on his face. He reached a hand up to rest on top of her head, tucking a few sweaty strands of hair behind her ear and rubbing his thumb over her forehead comfortingly.

"Hey, you." He whispered.

"Doctor?" Clara croaked out, breathing finally managing to even out. She was beginning to gain a bit of feeling in her limbs as well, instinctively resulting in the tightening of her hand around his.

"You're all right. It's okay." He leaned forward to press a small kiss to her forehead, standing up afterwards and walking to the edge of the room. Clara could see nothing but his back and rise and fall of his shoulders.

"What happened?" She muttered, lifting a hand to remove the uncomfortable mask and tossing it aside.

"You don't remember?" He clarified, returning a moment later with a little pill. He placed it in her palm, then knelt back down by the bed. "Eat that."

She complied without question, simply due to the greater questions rising to the surface of her mind. She gave the Doctor a weak glare, prompting for an explanation.

"Well, er," He scratched the side of his face awkwardly. "Long story."

"I think I've got the time." She countered, gesturing to herself.

"Well, Clara, I'm going to be honest." He screwed up his face, resting his chin on one palm. "I'm not sure. It was a poison known as Althornax, found only on the planet Kentu." He frowned. "Rubbish name for a poison, if you ask me. Bit random."

"Doctor.."

"Right, sorry, um. Well, that's it pretty much. The poison works fairly quickly, yet slowly at the same time. It results in a sort of slow progressing cardiac arrest, but it has a backup plan, you see. It was created to be one of the most deadly poisons in the galaxy, so in the midst of the cardiac arrest it also sends a bit of 'backup venom' into your bloodstream, ending with a bit more of a painful death." He considered. "Bit like you have the flu at first, but then, well, you die. But don't worry! You're going to be okay! That was the antidote I gave you just then." He smiled triumphantly. "Only thing I'm still confused about is, how were you poisoned? We've never been to Kentu. I've been wanting to take you there, actually, mind you, but we haven't gotten around to it."

"Umm, Doctor." Clara furrowed her eyebrows.

"What?"

"We went there last week."

"No we didn't!" He protested. "I know we didn't! Believe me, I would have remembered. And I would have given you the antidote for the poison immediately upon returning, just in case you were affected and we didn't know about it." He crossed his arms in defense, pouting. "I wouldn't have let all this happen to you."

"Clara! Where are you? Forgot to get you to take this after we left Kentu!" The Doctor's voice echoed from down the corridor, causing Clara and the man at her bedside to widen their eyes in shock. "Clara!"

"Oh..." He began. "Looks like I arrived a bit late...or early...not sure exactly."

When the other Doctor walked into the infirmary, he took one sight of Clara, at the Doctor, then let out a scowl and stormed up to him. "What did you do to her?! Who are you?!"

"Oh my god." Clara laughed faintly. "Talk about bedside entertainment."

"What are you talking about?" One of them said. She couldn't tell them apart.

"I'm you! From the future! Or the past... I got the timelines mixed up...er...looks like I might have entered the wrong TARDIS..." He then poked a finger at the other ones chest. "But don't blame me! _You _forgot to give her the antidote in time!"

"So...the poison affected her?" He looked at Clara with scared eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Believe me." She was biting her lip, finding the moment oddly hilarious. "I'm fine."

"Antidote made her a bit loopy." One of them explained, causing her to frown.

They continued to argue for a bit, trying to work out exactly what and where things went wrong. After a few moments, it just ended with the shake of hands, and the two parted ways.

"Well, okay then." The latter Doctor knelt in front of Clara, who had fallen asleep moments before. He twined his fingers with hers, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. "I've got some missed hours of fussing to make up for."

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><p><strong>AN: Well that took a bit of a cracky turn xD Sorry it took so long to get this posted.**


	27. Cabin Fever

_**Cabin Fever**_

**Prompt: (Guest)**

_- (post Cold War) clAra is raped on the ship (she IS the only girl they've seen in months, after all)_

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Note: I was lazy and quite unoriginal with this piece. .-. I took a bit of the idea and plot from a fic called Submerged by user Trish47. So if you read this and get a bit of Deja Vu, and you've read Submerged, that's why :3**

**Warning: Rape (duh) No severe detail**

**Rating: T**

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><p>They'd been cooped up for days. The tight, barely breathable little quarters she'd been staying in was beginning to feel a bit like a prison. The metal walls closed in on her a little more with every moment that passed, sending an uncomfortable shiver down her spine and a consisting thought wracking through her brain. <em>She had to get out of there. <em>

Clara tried, _multiple times _actually, but never managed to last a few minutes outside of her little prison before the Doctor was ushering her back in.

"I don't trust these men, Clara." He'd say. "It's safer for you to stay here until we get to the South Pole." He'd repeat.

At first, Clara had quite enjoyed her time on Captain Zhukov's submarine. Unlike the Doctor, she found the fellow passengers to be quite nice and friendly. The Professor, specifically. She'd taken quite a fancy to him. He was kind, funny, and kept her bored mind entertained with jokes and songs.

But she'd barely seen him lately, all because of the Doctor. Of course, she knew his intentions, knew he was simply trying to protect her, but that didn't mean she'd always take heed to them, let alone agree to them.

The Cabin Fever was eating her alive. She entertained herself with pacing back and forth, humming to herself and counting the cracks on the wooden flooring. Well, she'd done that already. Many times, in fact. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to get out of there.

As if on cue, as if he had read her mind from afar, the Doctor came bursting in with a giddy smile and disheveled brown hair. He held the sonic screwdriver in his left hand, while the other waggled its fingers a bit in mid air for no specific reason. "Hello, Clara! How you getting on?"

"I'm bored!" She replied with a pout, crossing her arms over the large sailor jacket that was still wrapped tightly around her undersized frame. "Can't I come out there for a bit?"

"We're almost there." He replied indirectly, smile never faltering. "Just about a day more. You can hang on til then, can't you?"

"Why can't I just come with you? Doctor, I appreciate the concern, but I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I won't let any of these men get to me. You can trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust." He emphasized, a slight frown on his face as he took a step closer. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, crouching down until his eyes were level with hers. "Its them. Don't wander off, okay?" And with that, he exited the room with haste, locking her in with words instead of keys.

Clara let out a dramatic groan of frustration, hoping it would catch his ears from down the corridor. When it did no such thing, she solely rolled her eyes and sat back on her bed.

But the action lasted mere seconds before she shot back to her feet. The Doctor wasn't her _dad. _He wasn't her _boss. _He didn't have any control over her. Clara could do what she wanted. She didn't need to be babied by a 1000 year old overprotective alien. No she _did not. _

So with an adventurous smirk she stepped into the corridor, closing the door as quietly as possible behind her. She strolled down the halls with clenched fists and a proud chest, giving herself a little congratulation for her independence.

But then she nearly screamed as her little burst of confidence sent her crashing right into Lieutenant Stepashin.

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry." He apologized immediately, holding his hands out in expectation. "Are you okay."

Clara cleared her throat, straightening herself as well as her dignity. She gave a brisk nod, taking a moment to straighten her little blue dress and the coat on top. "I am. Thank you." And with that, she began walking away.

"Hold on, now." Stepashin called after her, blocking her path. "That Doctor told us to make sure that you remained in your quarters. I'm going to have to ask you to allow me to escort you back."

Clara rolled her eyes in annoyance. The Doctor didn't trust them, yet still insisted them on being her babysitters. "You don't have to do everything he says, you know."

But the lieutenant was already grasping her tightly by her shoulder, shoving her back into her room a bit too roughly for Clara's liking.

"Oi." She complained, faltering into the confused tilt of her head as he stepped inside with her. "All right, you win. I'll stay. Goodbye." She spun around with a sigh, already on her way back to bed, but froze in her tracks as she heard the door slam behind her.

Stepashin had his back to Clara, hands fiddling with the lock on the door. He turned back a moment later, sinful smile playing on his lips as his hands wrung together at his front. He took a little step forward, breaths coming out in anxious gasps.

Clara's eyes widened in understanding, already inching sideways with a hand extended towards the wall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" And with that, he was upon her, leaping to her in such a fluent motion you would miss it if you blinked. Both hands gripped her shoulders with large callused hands, squeezing with such force that caused Clara to yelp in pain.

His breath was hot, yet icy at the same time on the side of her neck as he hissed into her ear. "Haven't seen a beautiful...quite astonishingly beautiful woman like you in many months." He thrust his hips forward, letting her feel his desperation as he drove it right into the base of her ribs.

"Stop this." She croaked, heart racing so violently in her chest she was worried it might leap away. Her breaths were shallow and quick, hands trembling in the midst of their grip on the man's jacket. "Please..."

"No use in trying to resist." He spat, raising one hand to grip her neck just loose enough to allow air, while the other ripped her jacket right off her shoulders. When she opened her mouth to scream in protest, he slammed a hand roughly over her mouth and nose alike, causing her chest to heave as she attempted to draw in impossible breaths. "Don't you dare call out, either. Do you hear me?" He removed his hand, scowl deep in his features at her lack of reply. He furrowed his brow and slapped her across the face, resulting in a squeal of pain. "I said, 'Do you hear me?!'" She nodded vigorously, tears already staining her cheeks. "Good girl." Stepashin praised, but as soon as his free hand reached around her back, feeling for the zipper of her dress, Clara began to fight.

"No." She shouted with a hushed tone, eyes just as much as words begging for him to cease.

With a frustrated growl, Stepashin clasped both hands tightly around her pale neck, shoving her downward with great force and pinning her to the floor. Clara's eyes went even wider as she clawed at every amount of flesh of his that she could reach, desperation being her only strength left.

"You know, it'd be much easier on _me _if I just knocked you out right here and now. Yeah. Then I'd have your limp, defenseless body all to myself. Would you like that?"

She shook her head wildly, struggles beginning to grow weaker with every additional breath she lacked. When the grip finally loosened, she gasped for air, eyes closing, chest rising and falling rapidly with slight relief.

Stepashin grinned and managed to unzip her dress. Clara bit her lip in a desperate attempt to remain calm, but her instinct wouldn't allow it. With a raging howl, her fist bore heavily into the man's jaw. She heard a crack, somehow convinced that the sound came from her instead of him. She felt nothing, but that was solely due to adrenaline. So, sparing every little second, she dug her nails into the wood and scrambled away.

She was just reaching for the door handle when she heard a stomp to her left, and looked up with frightened eyes as Stepashin planted a foot roughly into her ribs.

Clara gasped, rolling over and clutching her side with a cry. Still, though, she fought. She clawed and bit, kicked and screamed, did whatever it might take to get the brute off of her. "Doctor!" She called out, brow raising in surprise as she heard the door click open.

In her disoriented, injured haze, Clara could barely see through the black spots coating her vision. From her other sensations, she knew there was an arm wrapped tightly around her neck, making her head feel tight and her lips feel swollen. But she didn't even have the energy, lest the ability to fight it. She saw the blurry figure of a man in purple dress standing in the doorway, angry dispute taking place between him and Stepashin. She felt the arm around her neck tighten, and the purple figure taking a stomp closer, but all other sensations were pushed away as she felt herself being flung sideways. Her head connected with the metal wall, she went spiraling to the floor, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>"Clara!" The Doctor cried, throwing himself to his knees and crouching over the limp girl. With eyes filled to the brim with concern he rolled her delicately on her back, seeing a thin trail of blood trickling from her temple and causing his hands to shake. He cradled her head up off the floor while simultaneously running the sonic above her body. As he read the results, he nearly collapsed with relief. Concussion, fractured wrist, a couple broken ribs and definitely some bruising. She could have been worse off. She was severely hurt, but she would be okay.<p>

A few paces behind him Stepashin was being pinned to the ground by Zhukov and some of his men. His protests and shouts fell upon deaf ears, struggles seeming effortless as he was hauled away.

"He will be punished for what he has done." The captain promised. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No." The Doctor replied a bit too quickly. "No, we're fine. I'll take her to my quarters and care for her there." He spilled out the unnecessary information, urging the sailor silently to leave. To his pleasure, Zhukov simply nodded, leaving the two alone.

The Doctor sighed, lowering his head to Clara's shoulder. He hesitantly looked up, fingers brushing delicately over her cheek and tracing the bruises that polluted her perfect face. "Clara..." He wiped away a couple of stray tears still seeping from the corners of her eyes, and wasted no more time lifting her gingerly into his arms.

She immediately gasped, curling up close to him, severely pained even in her unconscious state. The Doctor's brow furrowed in sympathy and silent apology, thumbs brushing lightly over the patches of bruised skin he could reach with her still held securely in his grasp.

"Oh, Clara..." He muttered, still feeling somewhat numbed by shock. As the numbness began to fade he felt his own tears beginning to slide down his cheeks, little drops of salted sadness leaving spots on Clara's dress. He allowed himself a little smile, attempting to bring as much lightheartedness to his spirit as he could manage. "Why'd you wander off?"

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><p><strong>AN: I'm gonna be dead honest. The more reviews I get, the more likely I am to update more often :P They really encourage me to keep going. Chances are I won't get a chance to update tomorrow, but I might. Please please review! Feel free to send more prompts, just know that due to a quite astonishing long list I probably won't get around to it for a while :)**


	28. Gentle

_**Gentle**_

**Prompt: (Guest)**

_- I know you haven't really done anything smutty, but maybe like a Clara and 11 trying to have sex but Clara's got broken ribs from a adventure and 11s trying not to hurt her_

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

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><p>It was a known fact that their trips most of the time didn't pan out the way they'd assumed. Whether it was that of them landing on the wrong planet, or stumbling upon an outbreak of plague on a supposedly relaxing vacation, or, the most common, the rise of an evil inevitable threat prepared to destroy all living beings that inhabit its surroundings with the snap of its fingers. That was pretty much the norm.<p>

But sometimes it was the smaller, simple difficulties that came in the way of having an enjoyable time. For example, the Caves of Arithian deciding to collapse at the last minute, pinning Clara Oswald inside and resulting in a quite frustrating day. It had taken a team of diggers to break through the mouth of the rocky hole, only to find her trapped under several boulders that were crushing her chest.

Currently, possibly the top struggle of the day was getting her to the TARDIS medical bay in one piece.

"Ow." She repeatedly hissed, clutching the Doctor's jacket roughly with both hands in fear she may go toppling to the ground if she did otherwise. He himself had an arm wrapped gently, yet firmly around her waist while the other grasped her shoulder. As much as the situation pained the both of them, for Clara the physical pain of being half dragged through the corridors, and for the Doctor the emotional pain of seeing her in such a great discomfort, the only alternative of him simply carrying her would be much more painful and damaging.

"Almost there." He encouraged in a light voice, leading her through the sliding doors that enclosed the med bay.

Clara's head was drooping against his shoulder with her eyes squeezed shut, tight grip on the rough tweed never loosening. She opened them when she felt her side lightly brush up against something, taking in the surroundings with a sigh of relief.

"All right." The Doctor's voice was soft and apologetic. "I'm so sorry." With a grimace, he put on arm under her knees and wrapped the other around her shoulders. He could feel her tense in preparation, but never spoke out. With a reluctant sigh, he lifted her up as gently as possible and laid her across the bed.

Her breathing sped up and she clutched her side, biting her lip to contain a pained yelp. She looked up at the Doctor with sad brown eyes as he adjusted her position with careful movements, lowering her head to the bright white pillow.

"You okay?" He whispered, taking a minute to grasp her hand, lowering his head to plant a small, comforting kiss on her lips.

"I'm fine." She replied with a smile, breaths evening out simply by the comfort of his presence.

He gave her cheek a little pat before making his way around to the other side of her bed, rummaging frantically through drawers and cupboards. When he turned back round with the necessary supplies, he found that Clara had already somehow managed to work her shirt up and over her head, leaving her in nothing but her lacy black bra and her jeans that were...a bit too tight. At this stage in their relationship, the Doctor was fairly unfazed by the action, taking mere seconds to admire her figure as opposed to minutes.

"All right. Let's see." He wrung his hands together nervously, kneeling down at her bedside to peer at the deep bruises coating her damaged flesh. After earning a little nod of permission, he placed a hand delicately on her bare side, fingertips dancing over her ribs as lightly as he could manage. "Only two broken." He reported, spinning round to retrieve necessary supplies. "Could've been worse."

Clara solely nodded, peering over with a wince to catch a glimpse of her own, screwing up her face in disgust. "How long will they take to heal?"

"Oh, just a few days." The Doctor promised distractedly. "I'll give you something that'll speed up the healing. Don't worry." When he turned back around to face her, his hands held bandages and his face held a repeated solemn expression. "This will be much easier if you can sit up."

Clara sighed, closing her eyes briefly before pressing her palms firmly beneath her. With the Doctor's help, she managed to sit up, leaning against the headboard with trembling hands.

It took several minutes, rests, and gasps of pain before her torso was fully wrapped. A couple pain pills and a brief conversation later, she was being lifted into the Doctor's arms.

The action wasn't as painful as she'd expected. "Fast-acting pain killers." The Doctor explained with a proud smirk, faltering to a smile as he held her close on the journey to their shared bedroom.

Clara curled up close to him with a slight laugh, hands clasped around his neck until they arrived at their destination.

"Here we are!" He chimed, laying her down carefully on the bed. She winced a bit, but the pain was much less excruciating than it had been moments before. After giving a slight thanks, the Doctor made to depart, but Clara stopped him.

"Oi." She called with a mocking pout. "Aren't you gonna stay with me?"

When he spun around, there was a far too obvious pink tinting his cheeks. He scratched his chin awkwardly, refusing to meet her gaze as he muttered, "I can't."

"What d'you mean you can't?" She questioned with chuckle. "'Course you can. I'd love the company. Why not?"

"Because you're beautiful." The pink deepened to a dark red, and his hand settled for distractedly smoothed out his hair. "And your suffering from a quite _fortunate_ lack of excessive clothing."

"Oh, I get it." She smirked. "Come on. You're not some hormonal teenager. I'm sure you can handle it." She extended a hand to beckon him closer.

He was about to protest again, but just settled for the shake of his head at the twitching of his lips. "You're the boss." And with that, he practically skipped across the room and slid into bed next to her.

Almost immediately upon doing so, Clara's smirk brightened and she rolled onto her side, crashing her lips into his. The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't dare protest, just let his eyes flutter closed with a moan as he ran a hand through her hair.

Clara let out a little gasp as her weight brought her down on top of him, lowering her head to his chest and grimacing at the pain shooting through her body.

"All right?" He questioned worriedly.

"Yes. Fine." She raised her lips to his again, one hand bracing herself against the bed while the other began to tear off his jacket and unbutton his shirt.

The Doctor's hands ran deftly along her sides, frowning in disappointment at the barrier the bandages brought. Pushing the thought aside, he settled for caressing her shoulders and combing his fingers through her hair.

Clara was grimacing, and her breathing had sped up as she attempted to crawl on top, only to result in a little yelp as she collapsed forward.

If it were possible, more aroused than ever, the Doctor found it quite difficult to push away the lust for the beauty in from of him, and instead concentrate by the feeling of the rapid thudding of her heart against his own chest. "Clara." He forced himself to say. "You sure about this?"

"Mhmm." She grunted as she slid back off him, settling for being the one on bottom as she pulled him on top. He placed his knees on either side of her torso, hands gripping the bedsheets as he lowered his lips back to hers.

But the simple action of shifting his weight resulted in his knee digging into her ribs, and Clara could no longer muffle the cry of pain she emitted with shaky hands.

"I can't." She shook her head, placing a palm over her eyes. "It just hurts so much. I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's all right." He whispered, toppling back over onto his side and settling for laying beside her. Clara sighed, inching herself closer to him until her hand found his loosened purple bow tie. She curled her fingers tightly around the piece of fabric, using it as leverage to pull her head up to rest on his chest.

The Doctor smiled, leaning over to kiss her forehead and run a hand through her hair. He turned onto his side to wrap an arm closely around her, resulting in the action of her curling up closer with a content murmur. Well, Clara thought, if they couldn't take the opportunity that night to have some fun, she supposed this was the next best thing. Besides, being with him was all she'd really cared about in the first place.

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><p><strong>AN: Took a bit of a sappy fluffy turn, but I couldn't help it :P**

**Please review! Keep the prompts coming too :) I've got a lot already pending, but I love receiving more.**


	29. The Fear of Loss

**A/N: I have an excuse this time! xD Parents took my laptop for a few days. And guess what their reason was?**

_**I've been spending too much time writing fanfiction.**_

**Lol I love life.  
><strong>

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><p><em><strong>The Fear of Loss<strong>_

**Prompt: Zoze**

_- could you maybe do a fic where a coal hill student brings a bomb to the school/ claras class or something? Thanks ;)_

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

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><p>The dark clouds of thickening smoke seemed to burn her insides alive. It would catch in her throat, leaving it raw and musky feeling, before traveling downwards and swirling around in her lungs, resulting in each inhalation to become a considerable chore. Her palms were charred from scraping against the blackened tile, and her knees aches from the constant crawling through the flaming surroundings.<p>

But Clara wasn't giving up. Somewhere deep in the heart of the burning school was a young, helpless, innocent little girl. No more than nine years of age. Mentally unstable, on medication, dealing with the constant turmoil of memories from her sister's disappearance. And she was trapped inside.

And if it was the last thing she did, if it were the last act she _ever _performed, if this was her own inevitable end...

Clara would find her.

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><p><em><strong>Earlier that morning...<br>**_

It was a normal day. As normal as they got. Clara's usual routine had followed her awakening; breakfast, coffee, and a long drive to the school. From there, things had still progressed quite dully. First came in her group of year nines, then the tens, then they all went to lunch. But her first class following had brought more not-so-normal events than she thought possible.

"-and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense." A boy read, eyes skimming the pages of the book that he'd rather not be reading.

"Keep going." Clara urged, following along in her own copy of _Pride and Prejudice. _"Just one more paragraph-"

But that was when all the commotion had begun.

"Get out!" A fellow teacher, Mr. Pink if Clara recalled correctly, came skidding through the doorway with wide eyes, panting and sweaty. "Everyone get out, right now!" Just then the fire alarm sounded, and the noise of pounding footsteps echoed through the halls.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She demanded, tripping over a couple fleeing children on her journey to the teacher's side.

"A student brought a bomb to Ms. Wilder's class. Said it'll go off any minute. Police and Fire Brigade are already on their way, but we've _got _to get everyone out!"

Clara gasped and spun around to face the few remaining students in the room, who were now in a state of panic and trying to make their way out the exit. "Everyone out!" But they didn't need to be told twice. They were already gone, racing towards the closest fire exit. "A _bomb_?!" She clarified incredulously.

"Yes, Ms. Oswald, a _bomb. _Yours is the last class left, so I suggest you cut the small talk and get the hell out of here!" And with that he raced away, ushering a few fearstruck individuals in the proper direction.

Clara didn't waste anymore time darting out. A bomb?! A student had honestly brought a bomb to Coal Hill. This was a shock, even to her, who'd seen some crazed children in her few months as an English teacher. Her steps felt somewhat slow and sluggish as they pounded on the hallway tiles, feeling a sort of numbing in her chest. But that was when it all set in. _It'll go off any minute. _She recalled. And with that, she broke into an all out run.

Police and fire sirens sent a ringing through her ears as she shoved through the front doors. Parents were gathered all around, wrapping their worried children in a tight embrace before loading them each into a vehicle. Police ushered everyone back while firemen were already standing by, hoses at arm, ready for the inevitable action. One specific, screaming individual was roughly shoved into a car by two police men, who hauled him away in a flurry of sirens and screeching tires.

"Its gonna blow!" She heard somebody call. "Everyone back!"

Clara tilted her head, blinking a few times in confusion. Her feet felt oddly glued to the pavement, her whole body numb, despite the distinct trembling she could detect in her hands. She could faintly hear a few men yelling in her direction, frantically telling her to back as far away from the school as she could get. But she wasn't listening. She was too frozen with shock. She was actually, truly, properly frightened. But not because the building was about to go up into flames, no, or not even fright from the fact that a teenage student had actually brought a _bomb _to class. No. Her fear was one that few women besides mothers would understand. The fear of losing a child. Not even her own specifically. But simply that terrifying, gripping, chest-constricting feeling when she brought herself to glance around.

And her fears were confirmed. Maebh Arden had never made it safely outside. She was still in the school, cowering in a corner, racing through the halls, who knew. But she was _alone. _

And Clara didn't even have time to react before the explosion finally erupted.

She felt an arm wrapped around her waist and a cold hand gripping hers as she was dragged backwards. Her heels skidded against the asphalt as she twisted and turned, shouted in protest, and dug her elbows in her captor's sides in attempt to break free. "She's still in there!" She found herself announcing. "Maebh's still in there."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not about to let you do something insanely stupid!" The voice was familiar. Deep, daring, but soft and sympathetic all the same. The hands moved to her shoulders and spun her tightly around, and Clara found herself staring directly into the deep green eyes of the Doctor.

He was attempting to wrap her in a hug, but she continued to bat his arms away and step backwards. "She's still in there!"

"I know. I know. They're gathering a team now to go and search for her. See?" With an encouraging smile he gestured towards a group of thick-coated men, a couple consoling a sobbing mother while the other prepared supplies for their task.

Clara found herself gripping his tweed sleeves while he hand both hands clasped around her waist. "Sometimes, I think you just care too much." He laughed a bit. "They're gonna get her out, all right?"

She managed a nod, and the earth seemed to resume turning. With a bit of a shaky sigh she allowed the Doctor to wrap her in a tight embrace, only to result in him jerking her backwards with frantic eyes.

"The roof's starting to cave!" A man exclaimed, sending the rescue team reeling backward.

"No!" Clara called. "Maebh's still in there!"

"If we send any more men inside, they won't make it out." The woman's sobs continued, only stronger now, as all hope began to diminish.

"No..." Clara stared up at the Doctor. "We can't just let her die. Go get the TARDIS. Please."

"Clara..."

"For ONCE, Doctor, don't argue with me! Please! We've got to go after her!"

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><p><em><strong>Now<strong>_

After the TARDIS had landed inside, the HADS were immediately activated, sending it shooting off into space with the destination of somewhere safe. But not before Clara had managed to burst through the doors.

She didn't know how long ago that had been, but she hoped with everything in her that the Doctor was finding his way back. With the smoke burning and choking her lungs and the many injuries she'd received during her excavation, Clara didn't know how much longer she was going to last.

"MAEBH!" She screamed, her voice oddly quiet and hoarse. She could barely see anything through the thickening haze clouding her vision, and her legs were growing weaker with every step. She coughed violently into her sleeve, trying to replace the smoke in her lungs with the slightest bit of oxygen, but they wouldn't cooperate.

She was just ready to give up. Just about ready to collapse onto the floor, say a final pleading goodbye to the Doctor, and give up. But that was when she heard the cries.

A weak, barely audible sobbing echoed from the nearest classroom, and Clara wasted no time racing inside with a new found burst of energy. "Maebh!" She coughed out, falling to her knees beside the frail form curled up against the wall.

"Miss!" She cried, face visibly blackened from the unforgivable fumes. She hacked and wheezed, tears leaving thin, pale streaks down her charred cheeks.

"It's all right. It's all right, I've got you." Doubting the mentally ill child would even be able to walk in this state, Clara lifted her into her arms with a weak type of strength she wasn't expecting. Her own body was roughly trembling and she felt her head growing lighter. Physically shaking it in hopes of clearing, she trudged on, repeating her chore of coughing out smoke simply to inhale more.

The sound of the TARDIS had always annoyed her a bit. The way it wheezed and groaned, emitted a screeching sort of noise that made you want to slap someone. But in that moment, it was the most beautiful song of a noise she'd ever heard.

"Clara!" The Doctor jerked the doors open, flying out into the deathly glowing hallway in just enough time before the HADS could reactivate. He flung himself forward upon catching sight of the two girls, reaching them in a frantic movement of flying hands and desperate shouts.

Clara could barely catch her breath, let alone keep a firm grip on the tile with her wobbly heels. She stumbled towards the Doctor, tears streaming down her face, holding the limp child in her arms shakily out to the Doctor.

"She's okay." He reported loudly, scooping her up and racing towards the barely visible fire exit. "Come on!" He called over his shoulder, not sparing the time to glance back.

"Maebh!" The girl's mother cried, flinging herself forward and cradling her to her chest. "Oh my god!"

"She's okay." The Doctor coughed out, letting the paramedics and fire fighters take over from there. "Clara." He sighed, turning around and rubbing his eyes. "Are you all r-"

But she wasn't behind him.

Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Nothing else was visible. Everything seemed to stop. The only sight before him was the flames dancing around the edges of the school entrance, and all he could hear was the mental suffering of the woman left inside. He felt frozen for a minute. From shock, fright, he wasn't sure. It was a feeling he very rarely faced. A feeling of utter terror of losing someone close to him.

But he didn't have time to sit and ponder on the current happenings. He had to take action.

"Clara!" He burst through the doors, smashing glass and ripping frames off hinges. Sonic boring across in front of him, lighting his path through the clouds, the Doctor pursued. Ignoring every burn that was delivered to his flesh, every collapsing board or falling light that nearly took off his head, he trudged on.

And there she sat, on her hands and knees, head hanging low, practically coughing up a lung. Her eyes were beginning to droop closed, but she didn't let it stop her. Continually attempting to rise to her feet. She'd manage, but only briefly, before going sprawling to the ground again. Finally, she gave up, curling up into a tight ball and letting out a few choked sobs.

The Doctor wasted no more time flinging himself to his knees, cradling her head in one hand and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes cracked up, only to flutter closed again with a pained groan. "Clara." He whispered, stroking her cheek with the back of one finger. "Clara, it's all right. I'm here. You're safe. Its okay." With as much gentleness as he could he lifted her into his arms, holding her a little tighter than necessary as he trudged straight through the flames and out the door.

Medics were already racing in his direction, but the Doctor batted them away. "She's fine. Give her a few minutes. She's coming round."

"Sir,"

"_Give her a few minutes_!" He snarled, and they went reeling back with hands raised in mock-surrender.

The Doctor sniffed and carried her to a somewhat quiet spot, lying her gently on the grass. He kept her head slightly elevated with his left hand, while the other came to pat lightly at her cheek. "Clara." He muttered. "Clara."

She inhaled deeply and her fists clenched at her sides. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but remained closed. "Mm...Doctor..."

"Hey there." He spoke softly, stroking her cheek lightly with his thumb. "Hey, you're all right."

"Is-" She broke off, hunching over slightly and pressing a hand to her mouth to subside a coughing fit. "-is Maebh all right?"

He smiled. Even in her state, she cared for nothing more than the safety of her students. "Why don't you see for yourself?" He slipped an arm under her shoulders, helping her sit and encouraging her to open her eyes.

Clara's eyes cracked open and she leaned against the Doctor's chest, staring straight ahead and smiling at the sight. Little Maebh Arden was awake and alert, hands clasped with her mum's as she sat giggling in her lap.

"A few minor burns, and the smoke in her lungs was probably a bit uncomfortable. But she's all right. Came round as soon as we got out side." The Doctor reported, keeping his arm wrapped tightly around Clara. "She's okay. Thanks to you. You saved her, Clara." He encouraged, giving her shoulder a little shake. "But next time, wait on the TARDIS, eh?"

A shadow of a smile glimmered on her face. "I saved her." She repeated on a slur, relaxing into the Doctor's grasp. "An' you saved me."

"Come on." He shifted around to a better angle, lifting her into his arms again. "Let's go find the TARDIS."

Clara's head bumped against his chest and her eyes closed again. "Turned on the HADS again, didn't you?"

"Maybe..."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Bit of a rushed chapter, so its not the best :3 feel free to give me your thoughts, but be gentle! :3**


	30. To Aurina: A response to your prompts

*******TO AURINA********

Hi there, Aurina! Okay, so I just think its best to tell you instead of just letting you continue on. First of all, I saw your prompt the first time, but I've got about 12 prompts queued before it. But also, that just isn't the type of fic I prefer to write. This is a series of h/c one-shots, because I thoroughly enjoy writing that type of fic. As much as I am a people pleaser, and as much as I wish I could write every single prompt, some simply don't appeal to me. I want to be able to enjoy what I write. :)

So, it'd be great if you could understand, and quit sending so many prompts about the Wolf Girl. I hope you find someone else interested in writing it :)


	31. Strong Enough

_**Strong Enough**_

**Prompt: Luna M. Moon**

_- Yeah, remember in Amy's Choice, how quickly the Doctor suggested self-harm. What about a little Whofflè where Clara catches him doing it._

**Rating: T**

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**[Trigger Warning]**

* * *

><p>It had happened so quickly. Happened on a whim. Happened so suddenly, the Doctor wasn't even sure where it came from...<p>

He didn't know why he did it, really. It had just sort of...happened. He'd done it once before, he remembered, shortly after he'd lost Amy and Rory. The pain gripping his chest had just seemed to never fade. He'd tried all sorts of distractions, tried all sort of things to just calm the feelings and bring him some...serenity. But he'd given in. Given into the temptation, and it had haunted him for many years.

Until he'd met Clara Oswin Oswald. An interesting, funny woman, barmaid and governess all the same. She'd somehow managed to relight the candle that had burned out his life long ago.

Then he'd lost her. But then he'd found her again, and they were running together, to and for each other. And...they couldn't be happier.

But it was a different sort of underlying happiness that seemed to haunt the Doctor's every waking moment. Not as much a happiness as it was a...a sort of feelings that just caused his hearts to _soar. _Soar with an excited, fluttering feeling that repeatedly pounded inside his chest. He hadn't felt that sort flutter for a long while. Not since Rose.

But the fluttering never lasted long. As soon as he'd catch a glance of that face...that beautiful face. Her big brown eyes, her chocolate hair, and that warming smile that always danced across her lips, the soaring would begin. But as soon as he reminded himself that it was forbidden...he could never love her. He was a Time Lord. He couldn't fall for humans...it was replaced with the most painful ache he'd ever encountered.

The curse of the Time Lords. He couldn't love, not matter how much he thought he did. No matter what feelings he had...he just couldn't love her. Not for real. He couldn't give her an eternity, because sooner or later, they all left him.

He'd told himself he'd never do it again. He was strong. Strong enough to overcome such humany feelings. But he knew once he'd done it the first time that...there would never truly be any going back.

So with the bite of his lip and the close of his eyes, he dug the blade into his skin and allowed a single tear to fall. Perhaps he wasn't strong enough after all.

* * *

><p>Clara had detected for a long while now that something was wrong. As close as she was the Doctor, half the time he remained the biggest mystery to her. An enigma wrapped up in a suit, she liked to say. The most wonderful, and wondering, man she knew.<p>

And she knew him quite well, at that. Liked to think she knew him better than just about anyone else. She could usually tell when something was off. When he was sad, scared, or simply in need of a comforting hand. _Those big sad eyes..._ She told him. They betrayed so much.

And right now, in these past few days, they'd been tending to betray much more than he probably would have liked. Clara kept a close eye on him, finding herself giving him all out lengthy stares.

All she knew right now was, something was definitely off. Had been for a while, now, but the original reason was just barely slipping her grasp. She didn't have a single idea why he might be upset.

But she had a bit of a lead. He'd been acting weirder than normal today, departing to a bedroom he never used as soon as they'd returned to the TARDIS. _Turning in early. _He'd told Clara simply, the few words making less sense than any ramble he'd ever uttered.

So Clara found her feet automatically wandering out of the console room, into the corridor that led straight to the Doctor's barely used bedroom. She was a bit hesitant first, mind telling her it'd be best to turn back and leave him to rest, but if was her heart that urged her on in the end, carrying her straight to the doorway.

Her hand hovered for a moment, contemplating whether or not to knock. The door was slightly cracked...she could just walk right in couldn't she? No, she shouldn't, she decided, finally lightly tapping her knuckles against the metal. "Doctor?"

She heard a frantic rustle of clothing and a few fading footsteps. "H-hold on, Clara. I'm not decent." Several moments passed, Clara's concern growing with ever rapid heartbeat. "All right." He finally called out.

Clara stepped in, expecting to see him in some sort of alien pyjamas, but instead found him seated on the edge of his bed with his slacks still on and his jacket unbuttoned. The only thing missing was his shoes. "Thought you were gettin' dressed." She mused, crossing her arms and taking a few steps inside.

"Oh, I was." He assured her quickly with wide eyes. "These are...er...these are my pyjamas. Same as my suit, I know! I just love the style." A weak smile was forced on his face, looking a bit more like a grimace.

Clara sighed and seated herself next to him, shoulder brushing up lightly against his. "How are you?" She asked softly.

"I'm good, Clara. I'm good." There went that fake smile again.

"You sure?" She asked, feeling the rapid pounding of his hearts through just the little amount of contact they held. She felt her own body trembling in surprise as she caught sight of his hand, taking note of the thin trail of blood sliding down his fingers.

"I'm sure. I promise." He pulled his sleeve a little self-consciously further down his hand, grasping it tightly with his fingertips and giving Clara those big, sad, supposedly innocent eyes.

She didn't really know what to do, let alone what to say. She'd dealt with this before, actually. Angie Maitland had begun hurting herself shortly after her mother had died. Clara had been right there for her the whole way, eventually breaking her of the harmful addiction, albeit with much difficulty.

But this was different. This was the _Doctor. _He was strong...he was a bloody alien. He was the savior - and destroyer of worlds. This wasn't him. This wasn't him...weak and insecure. This wasn't the brave, ancient Time Lord she'd flown away with. He was stronger than this.

"Doctor." Her voice shook, eyes never wavering from his hand. She placed a hand softly on his back, feeling his hearts speed up as his gaze followed hers. She drew in a shuddering breath gripping his hand tight, not letting him flinch away. "Let me see."

"No." He pulled back, gaze hardening as he attempted to jerk his hand away, but she held tight.

With quick, frantic movements, she slid his sleeve up to his elbow, gasping and grimacing at the image laid out in front of her.

"Clara...I-" The Doctor stammered, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide and glassy.

"Doctor." She repeated, eyes clouding at the sight of the many deep slits running up and down his arm. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter." He said firmly, but the tremble was apparent in his demeanor. He forcefully rolled his sleeve back down, giving Clara a glare before lowering his head once again.

"Talk to me." She urged softly, wiping away a tear damping her cheek. "Please. Just talk to me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"_I just can't!_" He shouted, slamming his fists against his thighs and boring his gaze down on hers. When he saw her surprised, injured expression, he lowered his gaze again and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She consoled, hand drifting across their laps to grip his again. "You know that you can though, right? You can tell me anything. I'll listen. If you're hurt, I...I want to help."

"You can't." He muttered. "I'm fine, Clara. Don't worry about me."

Clara sighed, raising a hand to lightly rest on his cheek. "I always worry about you."

He smiled a bit at that, finally giving in to the growing pressure on his hand. With a grimace, he allowed Clara to roll his sleeve up again, trying to ignore the hurt, devastated, teary expression that refused to disappear from her face. "I'm sorry." He found himself saying, surging with embarrassment and shame. He was _strong. _He was supposed to be the strong one! He was supposed to be the owner of the comforting hand to hold, or the one who delivered kisses to the forehead and cheek during times of happiness. But now he was on the other end, barely able to utter a single word.

Clara pulled his hand into her lap palm-up, delicately tracing over each scar, both old and new. With a sigh, she rolled his sleeve back down, pressing a light kiss to his knuckles.

The Doctor closed his eyes in contentment, finally submitting to the other end. It wasn't all bad, he supposed, having someone care about him once in a while. As much as he hated to admit it, as much as he insisted on being the strong one, he confessed to himself that perhaps _he _was the one that sometimes needed the hand to hold. And...maybe that wasn't so bad.

He felt a hand on his back and leaned a bit closer as Clara began to wrap an arm around his lanky frame. He found himself smiling, slumping downward to press his forehead to her shoulder. Clara raised a hand to brush delicately through his hair, smoothing it over and down where it fell slightly over his face.

"I'm here for you. You can get through this. You can be strong."

The Doctor sighed, squeezing her hand tight. He just hoped he was strong _enough. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Review!**

**P.S. To the Guest requesting a fic where Clara has morning sickness, I actually already wrote a chapter about that towards the beginning :) Its called Worth It I believe. But, I _never _get tired of sick!fics, so if you have any others I'll go ahead and keep the prompt in your queued slot, so you don't have to wait like, weeks for it :3 I've been pretty busy.**

**Okay I've gotta go DW is coming on in 15 minutes and I need time to prepare myself *cries* CLARA BBY STAY WITH US**


	32. Pointless Battle

_**Pointless Battle  
><strong>_

**Prompt: Guest (Cat)**

_- (12th Doctor & Clara, sickfic) Ever since the events of Flatline, the Doctor just hasn't been feeling like himself. Finally, he gets properly sick, but being the stubborn old Time Lord that he is, he refuses to acknowledge the fact: He plans to go on an adventure anyway. It all ends with an "I told you so" from Clara. (Could also entail Clara getting him back on that time when he dragged her along when she was sick.)_

**Rating: K+**

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

* * *

><p>"You were an excellent Doctor, Clara. Goodness had nothing to do with it." The Doctor's deep voice confirmed, eyes boring down on Clara's before setting foot back inside the awaiting blue box.<p>

Clara stood frozen for a minute, the tiniest smile flickering across her face. She pressed her lips together in a firm like, giving herself an inward, satisfactory nod before following him inside.

Upon closing the door behind her, she found herself being thoroughly soniced, giving the Doctor a confused glare as he squinted to read the results on his device. "What're you doing?" She questioned with narrowed eyes and a wary tone.

"That pudding brain, Rigby, was it? Had the flu. Making sure you didn't catch it." He turned heel as leaped up to the console.

"You mean Rigsy?" She clarified, slinging her cross-strap bag onto the jump seat as she strolled up to his side. "Seemed fine to me."

"Early stages." He muttered distractedly. "You're fine, by the way. Although, next time don't hold hands with an ill person."

"We never held hands." She defended, excusing the one time she'd pulled him through the train and out the exit. "And besides, how would I have known?"

"Never said you would have."

Clara let out a soft groan of annoyance, rolling her eyes and shrugging off her jacket before slinging it to the side as well. She ignored a quick, _Do you mind? _from the Doctor, drumming her fingers absentmindedly against the console before giving a little sigh of exhaustion. "D'you mind if I stay here tonight again?"

Still messing around with the controls until they were sent back into the vortex, the Doctor didn't look up as he spoke. "What about P.E?"

"Oh, we rescheduled for Sunday. Told him I had a stack of student essays to grade." She shrugged innocently.

"Lying has become quite the habit of yours, Clara." He noted, finally meeting her gaze. "Yes, you can stay. Don't come blaming me if the TARDIS decides to move your bedroom again, mind you."

"Thanks, Doctor." Clara said cheerily, placing a hand briefly on his shoulder as she passed.

* * *

><p>Clara was more than glad she'd decided to stay, and ended up staying an extra three days, at that. Shortly after breakfast on her second day, the Doctor had begun growing slow and sluggish, and a bit more disoriented and quiet than normal. Insisting he was fine, Clara had left him alone, but had stuck around nonetheless to keep a close eye on him.<p>

And she was glad she did.

By now, he was all out sick. Headache, nausea, fever, the whole ordeal. And _still _he continued to deny it, no matter how much evidence was apparent.

"Clara, I'm in perfect health. You can stop worrying about me and _go home._" He demanded, glaring at her through glassy eyes and standing on shaky legs.

"I'm not leaving you alone while you're ill. So unless you've got someone else to look after you, you're stuck with me." Clara retorted, crossing her arms and giving him a defiant stare.

"I'm not ill!" He protested.

The pointless battle continued on for hours, until Clara walked in from the kitchen to find him weakly slumped against the console.

"Doctor?" She whispered with a hint of a laugh, discarding her tea before ambling to his side. She placed a tentative hand on his back, kneeling down to get a better look at his pale face. She brushed her fingers over his cheek, feeling a seemingly normal temperature, (well, normal if he were human,) instead of the freezing, cold skin she usually made contact with. She felt him shudder beneath her touch, wincing in sympathy as she gave his ribs a little nudge. "Hey." She raised her voice a notch, shaking his side. "Come on, you. Wake up."

As soon as his eyes shot open he stumbled backward, staggering on his feet with wide eyes and slightly raised hands. "Where's the cucumber?"

Clara shot him a quizzical look, taking a step backward. "The cucumber?"

The Doctor's eyes bore down on hers, and he took and ambling step forward to grip her shoulders tight. "The _cucumber_, Clara. Where is it?!" He groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance.

"Doctor." She said slowly, patting lightly at his chest. "Why don't you come sit down?"

"Stop spinning the room around!" He whined, plopping himself onto the jump seat with an exasperated sigh.

Clara gave him a lopsided smile, kneeling in front of him and placing a hand on his knee. "Now will you admit that you're sick?"

Shaking his head vigorously, not in reply but to clear his head, he clenched his fists weakly and muttered, "I might."

Clara grabbed his hand and tugged lightly, urging him to stand. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"I don't need to go to bed, Clara." He protested halfheartedly, eyes already fluttering closed again.

"Oi." She pat his cheek lightly. "Come on. You can sleep all you want once you get to your bedroom."

He opened his mouth to protest, but finally lowered his head in defeat and allowed her to help him to his feet. His head sagged downward and he found himself slumping sideways, but Clara held him upright with an arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

The journey to the bedroom was a chore. The TARDIS had decided to have a bit of fun, constantly moving their destination to various, differentiating places along the corridor. Twenty minutes and four sore feet later, they finally found it.

"Okay." Clara huffed, lowering the Doctor to the bed and placing her hands on her hips. She walked a slow circle until she caught her breath, then approached his side again. She slipped off his shoes and jacket, then lowered his head to the pillow and tucked him in. He gave a few protesting mutters, but none were strong enough to have any sort of impact. He let his eyes flutter closed and tucked the duvet tightly around the shoulders, silently urging Clara to leave before he could let any more of his pride slip away.

But she had no intentions of doing so. "How you even get sick in the first place?" She asked, seating herself on the edge of the bed to the Doctor's dismay.

"When the TARDIS life support systems began failing..." He coughed. "It weakened my...immune system, leaving me susceptible to human...ailments." The Doctor murmured, trying to slip into unconsciousness before she could say anymore. He felt her usually warm hand press against his cheek, only her skin was oddly slightly cool the time around. He heard Clara utter a few disapproving words, unaware in his incoherence exactly what they were. It wasn't long before he felt a light pressure atop his head, accompanied by a soothing sensation as she gently ran her fingers through his short hair. The sensation brought him a great deal of comfort, and he wholeheartedly relaxed into her touch, no matter how much his subconscious protested against the actions. In that moment, though, all he cared about was the feeling of her warm hands in his hair as he slipped into oblivion.

* * *

><p>"I'm fine! I swear! Let's just go." The Doctor insisted, walking around the console and pressing various buttons.<p>

"Doctor, yesterday you could barely stand." Clara protested, frowning with disapproval. "You're still not well. I can see it in your eyes, and you know it."

"But its so boring being cooped up in here!" He went on. "I'm well enough for a quick trip to the moon. What do you say? You with me or not?"

Clara shook her head with frustration, but gave in with the realization that he'd won. She was just looking forwards to the whooping _I told you so._

* * *

><p>"Okay...maybe you were right."<p>

"_Maybe_? Doctor. Look at you."

"A bit out of sorts."

"A _bit_?"

Clara was pressed against the Doctor's side, one arm clasped around his waist with the other pressing against his ribs. Nearly his full weight slouched against her, his head lulling and bumping into hers. Grunting with effort, Clara half led, half dragged across the console room, eyes trained on the jump seat that would relieve her of the burden. But they'd nearly half crossed the room when the Doctor's grasp on her arm went limp, and he collapsed to the ground.

Clara flung herself to her knees with wide eyes, cradling his head in one hand before it could whack into the floor. The Doctor breathed deeply, screwing up his face through closed eyelids, and managed to haul himself into a sitting position.

"Are you okay?" She asked, concern growing with every movement. She rested a hand against his back, feeling the violently trembling shiver erupting from his whole body.

"I'm fine, Clara..." He coughed, arms braced against the metal flooring to keep him from toppling back down. He flinched at the feeling of her cold hand on his, but couldn't resist returning the tight grip.

"Lie down." Clara whispered, much preferring to get him to his own bedroom, but accepting this as a last resort. She tugged a bit at his sleeve, urging him down.

"I'm fine." He repeated, but was already lowering himself to the floor. He winced as he head made contact with the cool metal, turning on his side to wrap his arms around himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered.

He heard Clara shifting around a bit, and cracked one eye open to get a glimpse. She was just a few feet away, back resting against the wall, with a warm smile and sympathetic eyes. "Come here."

"No." He huffed, curling up on himself again. He pushed away the lingering temptation to the back of his mind, telling himself _no _on a loop.

"Doctor," She warned. "Come on."

"No, Clara."

"Please?"

With a sigh of only slight reluctance, the Doctor lifted himself slightly up, slowly inching himself to Clara's side. He collapsed, shoulder hitting the hard floor, but head landing in the soft feeling of Clara's lap. He curled up tightly, hands bunched into fists, mind too tired to take the energy to come up with some sort of excuse. He was ill. That was all. Ill and delirious. Surely Clara would understand that. Still, he subconsciously hated how vulnerable he must look.

Clara simply smiled, amused and pleased by his sudden weakness and vulnerability. "You don't have to be so afraid to show this side of you, you know." She laid her palm on his cheek, gently stroking his forehead with her thumb. "I quite like it." Her smile faltered into a bit of a contorted frown as she finally asked, "You usually feel so cold. But you're oddly warm. Big change in temperature, so shouldn't that be dangerous?"

The Doctor groaned in negative reply, muttering into her lap, "Not as dangerous, or...affective in Time Lords..."

She nodded in understanding, taking the time to delicately comb her fingers through his hair again. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"On the floor?" He laughed weakly.

Clara giggled, fingers on her free hand lacing with his. "Why not? Go on ahead. It's all right."

His only answer was a sigh of contentment, and the brief squeeze of his grip on her hand.

"Oh, and Doctor?"

"Hmm?" He muttered.

"I told you so."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You don't know how much I needed this after watching Dark Water. I enjoyed this far too much cx**

**Please review! Feel free to send more h/c prompts, just know I've got a huge list already queued so its gonna take me a while to get around to all of them :)**


	33. Unnecessary Concern

_**Unnecessary Concern**_

**Prompt: TheBigCat**

_Clara is diabetic.  
><em>

**Rating: K+**

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Disclaimer: I have a doctorate in googling, not medicine. If something is medically incorrect, blame my lack of research, not my brain cx**

**Note: Wrote this thing up _then _read that you can't be born with diabetes...well I'm not rewriting this. Just imagine they're in some universe where its possible :3**

* * *

><p>He'd never really payed attention before. Not that he should have needed too...it was quite obvious. Or at least it should have been. The signs had always been there, he supposed, he'd just easily dismissed them as simple human weakness. Nothing more. Never had he once considered that something was <em>wrong. <em>

He'd noticed the insulin pump clipped onto her jeans just that morning, for the _first _time. In the months the Doctor had known Clara he'd never seen the little device attached at her hip.

_"Is that..." He began with wide eyes, darting to herself and grasping the hem of her blouse without hesitation, jerking it upward to reveal the little needle piercing her skin, in turn connected to its monitor. "An insulin pump. Clara, an insulin pump. Why didn't I know about this?"_

_She just laughed in turn, a bit of a wary glimmer on her face as she watched his expression. "Super observant, you are." _

_The Doctor just stared incredulously, mentally kicking himself on repeat._

_Feeling a bit self-conscious under his intent gaze on her bare side, she gently drew his hand away and shoved her blouse back down. "You've honestly never noticed that before?"_

_The Doctor's eyes widened even more and his hands twitched around in the air before finally settling at his sides. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Turned around, then turned back again. Scratched his chin, then dropped his hand back to his side._

_"Type 1 diabetes." Clara explained slowly._

_"Since when?" Was all he managed._

_"Born with it." She shrugged._

_"And you didn't even think to tell me?!"_

_"I thought you noticed! I mean," She tapped lightly at the device on her waistline. "Kind of hard to miss."_

Since then, he'd been more protective than ever. His usual basic nature had been replaced by a repulsive, embarrassing, father-material type of over protectiveness. To Clara, he'd never been more annoying. To him, any yawn or even the slightest tremor in her hands was a result of dangerously low blood sugar, following with thorough scans, tests, and frantic once-overs. Whereas in reality...it was just a yawn, and the slightest tremor in her hands. Nothing more.

She'd grown used to it lately, even finding herself hiding the slightest symptom just to avoid an inevitable sonicing. Sometimes, she admitted to herself, the symptoms _were _real. But it wasn't often, and the Doctor wasn't quite clever enough to tell the difference.

"Clara." He complained, the word drawn-out over a few seconds and accompanied by those big puppy dog eyes. He had his hands tightly gripping her shoulders, insisting it was merely to keep her steady, although she was perfectly fine.

"Doctor." Clara sighed. "I _yawned._"

"Fatigue is one of the main symptoms of low insulin levels! Maybe you need a higher dosage, or-"

"Shut up!" She howled, hands placed on either side of his face. "Just shut up. Listen to me. I'm fine. I'm not dying. I know how to take care of myself. And I certainly don't need you worrying over every little movement. Okay?"

"But-"

"-Ah, ah." She shushed, fierce brown eyes meeting concerned pale green. "Okay?"

With shoulders slumping in defeat, the Doctor let out a sigh and dropped his hands from her shoulders. "I'm never going to stop worrying about you."

"I'm just asking that you let me have a bit of space. Bit of space, eh? Just a bit. I'm not asking that you stop worrying about me, because I know that will never happen. And I appreciate that." A bit of a reluctant smile betrayed her features. "But take the worry down a notch, yeah?"

"Fine." He huffed, gaze fixed on the floor. "You're the boss."

"Thank you." She grinned, turning heel and walking to the console with her hands stiff in her pockets. "Now. Know any good _spacey_ restaurants? I could go for a good alien chocolate cake."

His eyes went wide, lip trembling. "Hunger is a sign of-"

"That's it. I give up.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Probably the shortest chapter I've ever written. And it turned out a bit more humored than intended. Oh well. We need a bit of comic relief ever now and again ;)**


	34. Better With You

_**Better With You**_

**Prompt: wibbly-wobbly stuff**

_Clara dies and the doctor totally freaks out only to wake up with Clara right next to him for some reason. You can fill in the details (hopefully with angsty fluff)_

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

* * *

><p>There was a reason he never slept. To Clara, it was always a mystery. <em>He <em>was always a mystery. The way his system just seemed to run a mile a minute, never needing rest, never needing a break. Maybe he did sleep, and she just wasn't there to witness it. She didn't know. Each time the topic arose it was quickly swept away under the rug, fading into one of his scientific rants on different types of space string and whatnot. Eventually, she let the desire to know die down. Or at least fade. She still remained curious, and that would never change.

* * *

><p>There was a reason he never slept, and the Doctor never hoped that that reason would be revealed. He knew she was curious. He could see it in her eyes. Something so small, so <em>seemingly <em>unimportant, drew her attention. Simply because it was a mystery, he decided. But the Doctor had kept the secret bundled up inside for many centuries now. There _was _a reason he never slept. Well, rarely slept. Time Lord or not, he needed a quick hour to refresh every once in a while. But the times were rare.

Because there was a reason he hated to sleep. And to his knowledge, that reason would forever remain.

* * *

><p><em>She'd been standing right in front of him. Just inches away. Her face had been so bright, so thrilled, so amazed. So excited and happy as she gazed at the world beyond and below. Her face had lit up the already burning bright scenery, sending a pleased chill down his spine every time he brought his eyes to hers.<em>

_It had taken nothing but the tiniest gust of wind. The smallest misplacing of her footing. And the terror in their mutual screams. He'd lunged forward, hand outstretched, just barely managing to graze her fingers before she'd gone toppling backwards._

_The fright in her eyes caused tears to fall from his. He howled her name, throwing himself down to lean on the edge of the cliff and reaching out, trying desperately to grasp the hand that had already disappeared into the mist. "Clara!" He screamed, again and again, as if somehow the word would bring her back to him._

_But of course, it never did. He was left alone on the side of the cliff, shock dulling his sobs and paling his face, cradling his head in his hands as he yearned for her back._

"Clara!" The Doctor's eyes flew open and his breath caught in his throat. Bracing his arms on either side of his legs, he lunged himself up into a sitting position, a cold sweat beaded on his brow. "Clara...Clara..." He muttered, voice oddly hoarse. His pale bare chest rose and fell rapidly with each shuddering gasp, eyes fluttering closed and open again as he wracked his brain for the recent events.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt a warm hand lay upon his shoulder. His head shot sideways, vision hazy, but found himself deeply relaxing as the familiar, concerned face of Clara came into view.

Her lips were contorted into a deep frown, brow knitted together as she moved a little closer to him. Oddly enough, the Doctor's first thought wasn't why he was in bed, not even why Clara seemed to be in bed _with _him. Instead, he wondered what was wrong with her eyes...they were glazed and almost inflated looking, sparkling even in the dim light.

"Doctor?" Her voice came out soft, slow, like she was afraid to startle him. The hand on his shoulder glided down his arm until it reached his hand, which she grasped firmly in both of hers. "You all right?"

"Clara?" It was the same word he'd spoken on repeat for several moments now, seemingly the only word he could manage to utter. The Doctor brought his gaze around the room, falling on her again each time it passed. "What happened?"

Clara tilted her head, grip on his hand tightening. "TARDIS gave me something to put in your tea...'said' it'd help you sleep. Well, ended up knocking you right out." She chuckled.

"But..why are you here?" He managed, hand limp in hers.

"This is your third nightmare just in the past few hours." She shrugged. "Thought it might help if I stuck around."

"So you decided to get in bed with me?" Even in his state, he couldn't resist the deep blush that tinted his cheeks. "Not okay, Clara! Not at all!"

"Oh, shut it." She hissed, giving his arm a light punch. Her eyes immediately softened, returning their fix on the ground. "Are you okay?"

"'Course I am." The Doctor straightened a bit, attempting to regain the bit of dignity that had been crushed. "I'm always okay."

She had an expression that just screamed her building preparation, eyes giving off that vibe that he was about to get a good reprimand. But it soon faltered. "Whatever you say." With a sigh, Clara flopped back down on the pillow, bundling herself up in the duvet.

The Doctor, too, made to protest, but found an odd sort of serenity in her company. He laid down as well, face just inches from hers. "Three nightmares, eh?"

She gave a soft nod. "What were they about?" _What could possibly be so horrible that it leaves you crying and frightened?_

"Oh, nothing important." _I dream about losing you. I have_ nightmares _about losing you. That's the worse nightmare a man could possibly have...I can't lose you._

Their gazes remained fixed for many moments, eyes never wavering from one another. Unexpectedly, Clara propped herself up on one elbow and leaned forward to plant a kiss on the Doctor's cheek. He oddly stiffened for a second, the combined intimacy of the action and that of them in the same bed screaming _no _on repeat. But he relaxed. Even found himself moving closer to her side. In response she wrapped an arm tight around his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

With a shuddering sigh, he succumbed into acceptance, returning the favor and draping a hand atop her waist. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." She whispered in reply. "Better with you anyways."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Simple and sappy 3**

**All right. Got an announcement. **

**As of the 15th I'm no longer accepting prompts. I've got a big December fic project ahead, (Whouffaldi included hint hint) And that's gonna require a good chunk of my time. I'll still go on and write all pending prompts, though, and any that I receive within the next three days. _And _(if possible) I'll get them all written by the end of the month...if I can...can't make any promises.**

**Thanks for everyone who's stuck with me since the beginning :)**


	35. Peaceful Oblivion

_**Peaceful Oblivion**_

**Prompt: ClariartyShippers  
><strong>_Eleven and Clara go on a skiing trip in Colorado when they find an abandoned lodge. They eventually get snowed in. Fluff fluff fluffidy fluff fluff :D_

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

* * *

><p>"You know, I never really liked America!"<p>

Completed with heavy white coats, ski and boot-clad feet, and a _whole _lot of shouting, the Doctor and Clara sped through the snowing mountains as the highest peak of Colorado's best ski resort. Poles scraped against the thick white earth, aggravated howls were exchanged, and snow went flying in each other's already pale faces.

"Oi! _You're _the one that wanted to go skiing!" The Doctor shot back, annoyed eyes visible even through his darkened mask.

"Well, I didn't know it was gonna be so cold!" Clara replied.

"What, did you think snow fell in the _summer_?"

"Shut up!"

The bantering had been going on for what seemed to be hours, and continued on for many more.

"I'm freezing." Clara complained, slowing to a stop and dropping her poles into the snow with a thud. She wrapped her arms tight around her frame, usually thin, now obnoxiously large thanks to the coat. Her eyes wandered up to the sky, the bits of hair sticking out of her beanie falling down in front of her eyes. "Gettin' dark." She mused. "Can we go back?"

Meanwhile, the Doctor was still trying to detach the skis from his booted feet, muttering a few frustrated words before finally working them off. Clara watched as he looked up at her, to the left, to the right, then as he bit his lip with a nervous little twitch of his hands. "Don't yell at me..." He began.

Clara's face contorted and she drew in a deep breath, shaking her head vigorously. "No, no. Don't say it."

"We're lost."

"I know we're lost!"

He rolled his eyes, but the regret was still more than apparent on his face. "Sorry."

They argued for several more minutes, (something the pair were growing quite tired of), before finally succumbing into the realisation that there was no point. If they were to comfortably survive the biting wind and impossibly, literally freezing snow, they wouldn't succeed by standing about and bickering through the night.

A few more reprimands and a twenty minute walk later, they were stumbling upon an old little house. Basic. A traditional log cabin, quite worse for the wear being completed with a partially collapsing roof and busted, yet barred windows, but still a sight for the duo's sore eyes.

"Abandoned." The Doctor noted, cracking the wooden door open sligthly while gripping Clara's hand with his free one. He ignored a sarcastic, _you don't say_, dismissing her crankiness as a simple chilled side effect and leading her inside. "Here we are!" He announced with a giddy smile, doing a little dance across the floor as he explored every inch of the small space. "Nice and quaint, small, but perfect for just tonight, eh? Eh?!" He gave a little laugh, then all his excitement faltered as he caught sight of Clara's disgruntled expression. "What?"

She refrained from speaking, but only for a mere moment, keeping her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm _cold._"

"And cranky." He huffed, striding up to her in two sift steps to place his hands on her shoulders. "Come _on, _Clara! You'll warm up in a bit! I'll work out our route tonight and we'll head home first thing in the morning, yeah?"

She looked as if she were about to bite back yet another retort, but just let her shoulders slump as she heaved a long, submissive sigh. The corner of her lips hitched upward in the tiniest of smiles, but her eyes shone. "Fine."

"Atta girl." He moved his hands to palm her cheeks and placed a quick his on her cold forehead, stepping back with the clap of his hands and the removal of his coat, which he slung across the room. There was a nearby recliner; large, plush, and quite inviting, and the Doctor gratefully plopped himself down. His booted toes pressed against the wooden slabs that slightly protruded from the floor, permitting himself to rock back and forth with a flashing grin. "Come on." He said suddenly.

Clara quirked an eyebrow, tightening her arms a little closer around herself. "Excuse me?"

"Come on! You said you're cold, so I'm gonna get you warm."

"_Excuse me?_"

At first a smirk seemed to be playing on his lips, but Clara took it to be a trick of her own twisted imagination as soon as it faltered into a warm, genuine, inviting smile. "Please?"

Her first instinct was to insist she was fine, then go bundle herself up in a corner with the warmest blanket she could find. But instead she found her feet automatically inching in his direction. She was sure his smile widened as she reached his side. She stood contemplating for a moment before shrugging off the thickest of her coats, kicked off her boots, and sat herself tentatively atop his knees.

"Oh, get over here." The Doctor reached forward to wrap his arms around her torso and leaned back with her tucked against his chest. She let out a giggling squeal in surprise, struggling against his grip at first before relaxing against him with such contentment it took him by surprise.

Clara sighed as he began rubbing his arms up and down her shoulders, nestling herself right beneath his chin. "God, your hands are warm." She mused, grabbing the appendage closest to her and pressing it to her cheek.

"I can raise and lower my body temperature at will." The Doctor explained with a little laugh, stroking her forehead with his thumb and wrapping his other arm around her waist. He rocked from side to side, nearly sending them toppling off the edge of the chair each time. Clara chuckled and turned on her side, pulling her feet up onto the chair with her and pressing her cheek to his chest.

Strong arms holding her close, the Doctor pressed a light kiss into her chocolate brown hair. One of her hands snake up between their bodies until it found the warm fabric of his bow tie, curling her fingers tightly around it and involuntarily tugging. She stilled, becoming suddenly soothed by the sound of both his hearts beating happily beneath her ear.

"Better?" He whispered.

Clara solely gave a tired nod, letting her eyes flutter closed. "Better."

* * *

><p>Her sleep was constantly interrupted, bitingly cold wind relentless against her sleep-deprived form. She woke constantly, feeling chilled the bone, only to have the feel of a man's fingers at her temples and a soft voice telling her to sleep.<p>

When Clara finally, truly awoke, it was to the sound of rough wooden pounding, banging painfully in her ears. She forced her eyes open with a wince, gazing hazily around to register her whereabouts. She was laid upon a soft pile of pillows and blankets, tucked away in the far corner of the room. Her own being was bundled up in several layers, completed with bot hers and the Doctor's coats placed atop. She sat up slowly, yawning, leaning against the wall and straining her vision to the far side of the room.

There the Doctor stood, forehead pressed against the door, fists whacking weakly at the splintering bark. When he turned around his eyes were closed, and he rubbed them, straightening himself upon opening them back up again as he caught sight of Clara's wakefulness. "Er...hi." He stammered. "Sleep well?"

She blinked tiredly, rubbing the corner of her eyes with her fists before giving him a disgruntle glare. "Snowed in?"

"Might be..."

Clara was too tired to care. With a sigh she buried herself back into her little cocoon of almost warmth, shuddering a little at the chill that still managed to reach her insides. Her eyes were just beginning to close when she heard the creaking of the old recliner, and peered over her shoulder to see the Doctor seated with arms outstretched.

"What?" She muttered.

"Cold?" He asked, all too eagerly.

Clara let out a sleepy giggle and hauled herself to her feet, the warmth of the Doctor's body her one motivation to urge her bare feet across the freezing floor. She practically collapsed into his lap, going limp and letting him do the work of bundling her up closely.

With the Doctor's arms wrapped tightly around her and the soft beating of his twin hearts against her cheek, she finally succumbed into a more than content, peaceful oblivion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whoops, that was a cabin, not a lodge. Don't call the police.**

**Remember that tomorrow I'll no longer be accepting prompts, so squeeze them in while you can. :) (Know that if you squeeze in multiple prompts in one review, I'll only get around to some of them, as its not entirely fair to those awaiting theirs.)**


	36. Love Like War

**_Love Like War  
><em>**

**Prompt: TheBigCat**

_Clara begins to say THE WORDS for whatever reason. "Run, you clever boy, and..." Please don't break my heart though!_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

* * *

><p>Of all things...it couldn't be like this. Of all things, it could just <em>end <em>like this. She couldn't die like this! A time traveling alien and his companion. Mentioned in legends, myths, and told to alien children for their bedtime stories. An absolutely brilliant relationship that could never be diminished. At least...not by something as simple as this. It was just _wrong. _He always knew she would die, of course. Everyone died at some point. But he'd assumed she'd go via weeping angel, or even get caught in the crossfire of a battling Sontaran fleet. But no. She'd been caught in the crossfire, alright, but it was dumb. Completely and utterly _dumb _was the only way he could seem to put it. Dumb and unreasonable. But why? Because she hadn't been alert enough to get out of the middle of the war on her own accord? Because he hadn't been clever enough to remove her immediately when they'd forced her onto the front line? Maybe both. It didn't matter. All that mattered in that precise moment, that moment where everything around him slowed down, and his concentration was on one certain being, all that mattered was the bleeding, pale, dying girl in his arms.

The Doctor had somehow managed to reach a very limp, nearly breathless Clara from where she'd laid in the middle of a rocky terrain. Her usual beautiful face was a ghostly white, the only coloring being the brown muddy streaks across her cheeks. Her limbs sprawled out limply as he shifted her weight in his grasp, picking up an unacknowledged pace when his blue box came into sight.

"Not like this." He found himself whispering to no one in particular. His mind was oddly blank. Usually in even the most dire of situations, he being himself would easily manage to lighten the mood by a sarcastic comment, or a sharp retort. But strangely enough, he could barely even utter a single word out of his chapped lips. As he stared down at the lifeless woman, he could only say the same thing on repeat. "Not like this."

The TARDIS doors opened on their own accord, and the Doctor couldn't even manage a simple thank you on his way to the medical bay. He stumbled a bit during his stride, not even attempting to pay attention to the simple act of his footing. He just had to keep going. He had to save her.

By the time he laid Clara on the sterile white bed in the corner of the room, both her being and his jacket were stained with dark crimson. Blood continued to pool from the shot wound in her shoulder. Her breaths were quick and shallow, fists weakly clenched atop her stomach. She was in so much pain.

_I'll do it if I have to. _The Doctor thought to himself, wasting no more than a brief second with his hands braced on the bed and his eyes squeezed shut. _I _will _do it if I have to. _He shook his head for clearance and took a few steps back, regathering himself and some necessary supplies.

Many minutes of shaking attempts to properly dress the injury resulted in nothing but a bloody mess. The Doctor felt the corners of his eyes prickling, and building pressure growing behind them. He sniffed, and continued to work, knowing that it would do far from good.

He lifted one trembling hand to Clara's cold face, brushing away a couple sweaty strands of hair. He startled when he heard her emit a shaky breath, and her eyes just barely cracked open to meet his.

He watched as her lips parted, and winced at the effort it seemed to require. But when she finally spoke, his heart fell out of beat with the other.

"Run..." She whispered, one thin tear rolling down her cheek. "Run you-"

"No!" The Doctor cleared away all traces of bloodied bandages and any other obstacle, then just barely reached his hand under her shirt to grasp her injured shoulder. He heard her gasp slightly in pain, then soon relax as relief began swarming throughout her. He waggled his fingers a bit and watched as a golden, shinning glow covered the appendage, as well as any affliction the surrounding area held. He could feel his own eyelids drooping shut, and the loss of energy affecting him a great deal. But he continued on, only pulling back when he was sure she'd finally healed.

Clara's eyes opened and her breaths grew deeper. She looked around frantically, a bit of color already returning to her previously deathly ashen cheeks. She gasped when she caught sight of the Doctor, who was slowly sliding down the edge of the bed and collapsing to his knees on the floor. She intended to sit up, intended to reach out for him and keep him from falling. But her head felt far too heavy to even lift off her pillow, and the rest of her being refused to cooperate. She settled for leaning on one side, and reached out to weakly grasp the lapel of his jacket.

The Doctor looked up, breathing heavily, and inched himself forward to lean on the side of the bed. He couldn't resist the huge smile that betrayed his pained features as he took sight of Clara's lucid, awake, _alive _form.

"Are you all right?" She asked suddenly, still holding onto him for a support he didn't need, nor that she could supply.

He laughed at that, bringing his eyes to meet hers. "Clara, you just got shot, and you're asking if _I'm _fine?"

"About that..." She considered hoarsely. "What exactly happened?"

He waved a dismissing hand in front of his face. "Regeneration energy transfer. Healed up the wound. You'll be fine."

"What about you?" Her immediate concern never ceased to increase his affection for her. And annoyed him a bit.

"I'm fine too." He smiled slightly, forcing himself to his feet. After a wobbly moment, he regained his composure.

Clara nodded with satisfaction, rolling onto her back and pulling the thin blanket up to her shoulders. "Cold in here." She whispered with a shudder.

"No, that's just you. You're anemic. You'll be fine, though, just rest up for a bit. The TARDIS will take care of the rest."

With a little hum of acknowledgement, Clara let her eyelids flutter shut. "Thank you." She muttered, before drifting off into a healing state that was far too needed.

The Doctor's stride started for the door, but he immediately found himself turning back around. He stuck his hands in his pockets and ambled up to her bedside, gaze lowering to fall upon her sleeping form. She was still a bit pale, and the blood staining her blouse didn't do much for her appearance, but she was okay. He'd saved her. He'd done it. She was okay.

As much as he hated to admit it - and never _ever _would out loud - his affection for the woman seemed to grow with every movement she made. Even the movement of dying, he thought with a little laugh. Maybe it had taken something like this for him to truly come to terms with his feelings. Love was like war, he decided. It brought conflict. It brought pain. But was so..._necessary _in a way.

He reached a hand towards her face, then immediately recoiled as if he'd been bitten. _No. _He couldn't think like that. He couldn't allow his already corrupted thoughts to stray to the impossible...it wasn't fair for either of them. And denying those thoughts included denying that contact...the physical contact he desired so much that it ached.

But...he supposed...he _had _just saved her life after all. Hasn't he earned a little bit? Just a little?

He sat himself on the edge of the bed and didn't resist a single moment more. He reached out a hand to rest atop her head, smoothing the chocolate hair from her eyes and down the length of her neck. She shifted a little in reply, a content sigh escaping her lips, but she didn't wake. And the Doctor was glad. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she had.

He palmed her cheek and stroked the space just above her eye with his thumb. He leaned down to press a quick kiss to the top of her head, then departed the room with such haste it was as if he'd never been there.

Clara's eyes opened slowly as she watched him go, and a warm smile swept across her face. "Thank you." She whispered once more, before drifting back off.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hearts on fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire tonight, feel my boooooooooooooooooooooones ignite, feels like WAAAAAR. WAAAAAR. Feels like WAAAAAR. WAAAAAAR. *moshes through the window***

**Sorry I like that song :3**

**Prompting is closed, but please don't hesitate to review! :)**


	37. Nothing Compares

_**Nothing Compares**_

**Prompt: (Guest)**

_Hi, umm could you whump the doctor a bit? Like, Danny somehow went on an adventure with the two of them and the Doctor's injured/sick and panicking and Clara tries to get help and Danny's left with him trying to calm him?_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O., Danny P.**

**Rating: K+**

* * *

><p>"Doctor, look at me. Just calm down a minute and look at me. You're gonna be all right, okay? I just need you to calm down."<p>

The panicky shouts and screams bounced off the walls of the small, confined space, jarring the already throbbing ears of the only two in range. The Doctor thrashed and flailed from his place seated in the far corner of the room, hands raised to ward off an oncoming attack and a hopeless, terrified look in his eyes. He made no sign that he registered Clara's words, just continued to stare straight ahead, panting and sweaty.

"Doctor." She repeated, a bit more firmly. She knelt in front so that his eyes met hers, although they still seemed too glazed to truly fix on any specific point. "Look at me." Clara placed her hands on either side of his face and looked straight into his eyes, giving the side of his head a light pat in attempt to bring him back to reality. "It's okay. Just calm down."

As if those last five words were the first he'd heard, he flinched back and knocked her hands from his cheeks, pressing himself flat against the wall. His chest heaved with each gasp for air, hands trembling as he inched himself further and further away.

Clara reached out and caught his hand, his skin unusually warm instead of the coolness she was used to. She gripped it firmly, moving along with him so that she was seated directly where his gaze was fixed. "Look at me." She repeated for possibly the hundredth time.

Finally, he truly seemed to register her presence. His features relaxed ever so slightly, and he managed a weak return squeeze on her smaller hand. "That's it." She encouraged. "Take slow breaths. Settle yourself down." He complied, shoulders slumping and breathing evening out. Before Clara had another moment to react, his eyes fluttered closed and he slumped sideways to collapse to the floor.

"Is he okay?" Danny asked from the opposite side of the room, where Clara had demanded he stay until she could manage to calm her friend down.

"Yeah." She replied, voice low, taking a minute to adjust the Doctor into a more comfortable position before hauling herself to her feet with a small grunt. She wiped her hands on her already dirt-clad jeans, the crossed the small space to meet her boyfriend half way. "Just unconscious."

"What's wrong with him?" He asked.

"Something called Habenera according to the locals." She replied with a sigh. "It's apparently some illness that's been going round the area for a while. We've been on this planet for three days, after all. Suppose he picked it up at some point."

There was a panicked tint to Danny's words. "What's keeping us safe?"

"Nothing."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Not deadly, if that's what you mean. Just comes with symptoms a bit like a really bad flu." She lowered her head for a brief minute, twisting around to catch a glance at the Doctor's trembling form. "And the flu brings high fever. And for him, _really high. _He's getting the worst out of it. Completed with hallucinations and all."

"We should get out of here then!" Danny nearly shouted, eyes widened slightly. "We won't be much use to him if _we _catch it too."

"Problem is, I dunno where the hell he parked the TARDIS." She let out a sort of groan of annoyance, then gazed out the window. "I suppose I could go look for it, though." She seemed to ponder for a moment, before giving a small nod that signaled she'd made up her mind. "Will you look after him?"

"What? I'm not letting you go out there alone." Danny protested indignantly. "He'll be fine here by himself."

"_No, _he _won't_. He's ill, Danny! He needs someone to make sure he's all right. Besides, you don't know how to fly the TARDIS here." She pointed out.

"And you do?"

"Sort of. I can plug myself into the telepathic circuit, let her do the work for me." When she saw his still hesitant expression, she took a step closer to place a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine. It can't be too far, so I won't be real long." She silenced him with a finger to his lips when he began to protest again. "-Ah, I'll be fine. I need this from you. Okay?"

His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he gave a subtle nod. "Fine. Just...be careful, yeah?"

With a grateful smile, Clara planet a quick kiss on his cheek before slipping on her thin black cardigan and departing outside.

* * *

><p>For thirty minutes, Danny on a small stool near the edge of the door, tapping his toe with difficult almost-patience. He kept his eyes trained on the Doctor, hoping with everything in him that the man didn't wake.<p>

For some reason, the slow passing time hadn't left Danny as bored as he thought he'd be. He found his mind fully occupied, between constant thoughts of Clara, of course, and what the _hell _he was gonna do when the Doctor finally woke.

He was a soldier. He'd fought in wars. He'd faced men with guns and bombs and looked into the face of death nearly every waking moment. But when it came to taking care of a sickly old man, he was lost.

It had been quiet, those thirty minutes. The Doctor continued to sleep peacefully. Maybe he'd remain that way, Danny decided. Maybe he'd get out of any awkward comforting until Clara returned.

But as if on cue, as if his mind had been read in those few seconds, the Doctor's eyes shot open, and he sat straight up. Danny watched in wariness as the man's first action upon awakening was hyperventilation, his hands braced against the wall behind him, entire body trembling. "Clara!" He immediately called out, the word barely recognizable in the midst of a cough.

"She's not here." Danny said gruffly, hoping to keep his distance if at all possible. "Went to go find your box."

"Clara." He said again, voice a bit lower than before. His eyes were glassy and his forehead was beaded with a thick sweat. It was more than obvious that he wasn't in his right mind. He could do anything. Think anything. Danny just had to get him under control.

"She's not here." He repeated, a bit more calmly.

Unexpectedly, the Doctor abruptly flew to his feet, hurling himself to the other side of the room with surprising speed and swiftness. Danny had no time to react before he was gripped roughly by the shoulders and shoved up against the wall.

"Where. Is. Clara?!" He hissed, pressing the frightened man forcefully against the splintering wood.

"Get the hell off me!" Danny, being of much more strength and, well, sanity, easily shouldered past the raging man and fled to the opposite wall. "She's not here!"

"Clara." He took a step back, stumbling over his feet. He swayed back and forth, hands slightly extended, mumbling barely audible phrases. "Little Clara. My Clara. Fragile little human. So short. Bossy. One _hell _of a backhand." His words were slurred, actions greatly resembling that of a drunken rage. He continued to rant on, Clara this, Clara that.

"Doctor." Danny managed to take a couple steps closer, arms fully extended in front in case the ill man decided to attack again. "You need to sit down."

"NO!" He shouted furiously, turning heel to shoot his begrudging companion a warning glare. "You," He waggled a long bony finger in Danny's direction. "You stay back. I need Clara. Only Clara. No pudding brains."

"You've got to understand - Clara's not-" The wooden creaking that marked the door's opening cut him off. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, shoulders slumping in relief.

Clara stepped through the doors, a victorious grin on her tired features. "TARDIS is parked right around the corner." She chirped, but her smile immediately faltered as her gaze hovered to rest on the Doctor. "What the hell are you doing up?!"

A bright, excited smile overcame the Doctor's lips. He threw his arms up in the air, the motion sending him wobbly again. "Clara!" He chimed. Neither of the awestruck humans had time to react before his knees buckled under him and he went sprawling to the floor.

"Doctor!" Clara threw herself forward and caught him before his head could connect with the cold, stone ground. "What happened?" She asked, alarmed, words aimed at Danny but her attention fixed on the man in her arms.

"He went mad!" He exclaimed. "Started ramblin' on about you. I tried to make him sit down, but did he listen to me? No!"

But despite her question, she didn't note a thing he said, instead attentive on adjusting the Doctor back against the wall to make him a bit more comfortable. "When he wakes up we'll move him to the TARDIS. I don't wanna risk jostling him now." She muttered concernedly, combing her fingers through the short curls atop his head. He was trembling in his sleep, fists tucked tight against his chest as chills wracked his body. Clara whispered a few soothing words, shushing him and rubbing her free hand up and down the length of his arm.

Danny watched from a distance, frowning deep and dark. He sighed, gaze drifting away from the two as he stomped to face the other way. For some reason, he found the scene difficult to watch.

No matter what he himself shared with Clara, no matter what she said, what she insisted, since he knew they were in fact, of course, repetitive lies...

Danny would never manage to compete with what the beautiful woman and the mysterious alien shared.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm actually starting to think I might finish up before December. Fingers crossed! Hope you all enjoyed :) Leave a review if you'd like!**


	38. The Moment

_**The Moment**_

**Prompt: Guest (Aurina)**

_if you cant write one about clara being a wolf then do one where clara and 12 go out in space and look at stars and the 12th doctor says he sees one that reminds him of clara_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K**

* * *

><p>"Look at that one." The Doctor extended one long finger to pinpoint the particular location of a specific star. The surrounding systems were a sparking blue and a tinted pink, gas clouds blowing across the dark background with every shift of the lingering atmospheres. He squinted to get a better look at where his own finger was pointing, chuckling a bit. "Look at it."<p>

"Which one?" Clara clarified, shifting herself closer to his side and tilting her head until it was barely grazing his shoulder. Their legs dangled off the edge of the TARDIS opening, doors swaying freely back and forth in the gravity-deprived space.

"_That _one."

She narrowed her eyes to catch a better glance as her gaze fell on the proper direction. One little 'star' the Doctor claimed it to be, even though it resembled a star in no way at all, (more of a large spec of colorful flickering light,) rested right in the center of her vision. It's surrounding companions were scattered around it, grouped in clusters and herds, pulsating back and forth in opposite directions. It was as if it repelled the others, pushing them out just as they began to inch their way back in its direction.

"See how the anti-gravity field repels the others?" He asked, earning a nod in reply. "That one reminds me of you." His voice was sweet, but held a mocking edge.

"How so?" She gave him a quizzical look, gaze flickering from him, to the star, and back again.

"Look at it!" He insisted. "Bossing all those others around, telling them to buzz of," He flashed her a smirk. "Sound familiar?"

"Oi." Clara's lips twitched downward into a pout, then lit up as she saw a particular star of her own. "How about that one?" She pointed.

"What about it?"

"Look at it." She laughed. "So big. So angry looking."

"_Angry_?"

"Yeah. I mean, just look at those eyebrows."

"Stars don't have eyebrows, Clara. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I meant you." She huffed, poking the center of his forehead. "You've got two raccoons on your forehead."

The Doctor frowned and batted her hand away.

"Nah." She continued to laugh, searching the skies again. "I think _that _one reminds me of you the most."

"Which one's that, then?" He asked with genuine, sincere uninterest.

"That one." She repeated, pointing. "See how it just seems to tower over all the others? How it stands out so much? Almost like its watching over them all. Keeping them safe."

An odd, unrecognizable expression seemed to betray his features for a moment. Almost as if he were smiling...but in a sad sort of way. But just as quickly as the look appeared it was swept away with the shake of his head. "Stars don't have eyes either, Clara."

"Shut up." She gave his shoulder a light punch. "Just have a moment. Can't you do that? Just have a moment and don't bloody ruin it."

"Time Lord's don't have moments, Clara." He chuckled.

"You are impossible."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just a bit of relief to make up for the next chapter o.o  
><strong>


	39. Breaking the Rule

_**Breaking the Rule**_

**Prompt: (Guest)**

_What if the Doctor is either forced to physically hurt Clara or to watch her being hurt and he can't do anything about it_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Torture**

**Note: After re-reading Catching Fire...and that one scene with Gale...yeah I couldn't resist O.o**

* * *

><p>The screams bounced off each of the stone cold walls, reflecting the noise and somehow the coolness of the air back into his already aching ears. The cracks and pounds that echoed in the air sent an involuntary flinch through his entire being. He pressed his forehead into the ice-cold floor and let out a series of several pained groans, which immediately twisted into raging howls. Each lash of the whip bore down on his bare back, leaving his skin a meaty, bloody mess. His hands were bound behind him, resulting in the occasional lash across his arms as well. The beatings were relentless. Once after another. Never letting up. If it weren't for the special ability as a Time Lord to have a higher pain tolerance, he'd have blacked out long ago. But he held on...even if only by a thread.<p>

Because somewhere out there, he didn't know where, he didn't know how far, but Clara was awaiting to be rescued. And the Doctor wasn't planning on letting her down.

"Tell us where the key is" His abuser demanded on repeat. So often that the Doctor wondered if it might be the only words in his vocabulary.

Each time, he'd give the same reply. "_Never._" He hissed through his clenched teeth, even in the excruciating moment, managing to show defiance and determination.

He braced himself for another lash, another surge of barely bearable pain. But it never came. He could faintly hear a few exchanged words by the only other two men of the room, then one departed. The Doctor thought it was over. Thought they'd finally given up - well - more like he _really _hoped they'd given up.

"You know, Doctor," The man with the whip said, making a show of twirling his weapon around in the air. "I don't think we're getting anywhere here."

"You're damn right we're not." He bit out again, managing to haul himself into a half-way seated position on his aching knees.

"I'm not going to find out where you hid that bloody key. Not like this at least." The man's eyes were sinister and sinful, dark and full of danger. "But you know what they say..." A smirk danced across his lips as the door behind him flew open. The Doctor barely registered what happened next, still a bit dazed from his previous beatings. He watched dizzily at the second man that stepped inside towing another body behind him. The small figure squirmed and screamed in protest, and he could easily make out the sight of her eyes widening and her breathing speeding as she rested her eyes on him.

He barely heard his executioners next words.

"Emotions destroy you."

* * *

><p>"Doctor!" Clara shouted with a distressed edge to her voice, desperately wanting to fling herself to his side and come to his aid. His beaten, bruised form sucked all the breath out of her for a brief moment, and in those few seconds he was the only thing that mattered. His safety was the only thing she cared about. "No...Doctor!"<p>

"Clara!" His voice was not the brave, strong, admirably firm tone she'd come to know and love. No...the single word that escaped his lips was so hoarse...so pained, so _emotional _that it made Clara wanted to scream in rage at what the men had done to him.

So she did.

"You bastards!" In a flurry of flying fists she broke free of the fairly loose grasp on her arm, and tackled the closest of their torturers to the ground. She pounded on his face a few times before being lifted in the air, only to be thrown roughly back to the ground. "You hurt him!" She screamed, tears streaming down her face and leaving puddles on the dry dirt coat that barely covered the stone ground. "You hurt him..."

"Clara, its okay." He called out, that barrier once again blocking him from all emotion and fear abruptly lowered. "I'm okay. You're okay. Just calm down."

"You're not okay!" She retorted loudly, barely noticing or caring that her top was being torn of her body, leaving her back and torso exposed with nothing but a frail bra to protect her from the blows to come. Dignity was the last thing on her mind. She also ignored the action of her hands being tied behind her back, and her face thrust against the floor. Her eyes remained fixed on the Doctor's. On those deep, icy blue, sorrowful eyes.

"You see, Doctor." A man was saying, strolling back and forth in between the companions and tapping a whip lightly in his hand. The sight of the object sent a shiver down her spine. "We were prepared for your defiance. But don't worry. We have a solution."

"Don't." He begged. "Do whatever you want to me...just don't hurt her." It was far too obvious how calm he was trying to remain. How hard he was trying not to show the surging emotion, no matter how much it bled through his expression. "Please."

"Oh look, the Time Lord is begging!" A chime of laughter erupted from the mouths of each standing man in the room. "How cute."

"Don't!" He was desperate now. Not even trying to hide it. "Don't hurt her!"

Clara's tears continued to flow freely, her sudden fear for her own self almost matching her fear for the Doctor. She watched, panic stricken, as the torturer turned heel at set stride. He walked up to her in just a few steps, twirling the whip around in on hand.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this." Neither Clara nor the Doctor had a single moment to react before the end of the whip was sent lashing across her back. She'd been so determined...so _set _on not making a sound. So convinced that she'd be able to show that simple act of defiance by not showing her pain.

But that desire ended before it even started. She couldn't bite back the strangled, choking cry that came from the back of her throat.

"Clara!" The Doctor's voice was laced with deep distress and anger. "Stop this! Leave her alone!"

Not another word was exchanged before she felt another painful impact. This time it was followed immediately with another. And another. And another...

Her eyes squeezed shut tightly and she screamed in pain. A pain more unbearable, more excruciating than she'd expected. It hurt. It hurt so badly...

She was supposed to be the strong one in this moment. She was supposed to be the one coming to her injured Doctor's rescue, the one mending his wounds and fussing at his bedside. Those were her plans. It was her plan to remain strong. But it was no secret how much she relied on that man. How much she counted on him for her own personal safety. So when she cried out his name in anguish, it surprised no one.

The Doctor was crying now. She'd never seen him cry before. His eyes were wide and fearful. He kept standing up with an energy she didn't know he could possibly have, and kept attempting to race to her side. But each time he was roughly thrown against the wall, forced back, resulting in a pained howl.

"How does it feel, Doctor?" Clara barely made out the words, not caring that much as they were obviously not directed at her. "How does it feel to watch someone you love call out for you..." The man lowered his face until it was inches from the Doctors, "...And you can't do anything about it."

"Leave her alone." He panted out, eyes squeezed shut. "Just leave her alone."

Clara coughed and wheezed, desperately trying to rise to a higher position but collapsing each time. Her back stung like it was on fire, as well as her torso where he'd managed a few lashes there. She sobbed and cried out, but her pleas for relief fell upon deaf ears.

"But where's the fun in that?" The man was saying. She couldn't really see him anymore. It was more of just a blurred outline.

The blur grew larger. Little by little it widened until everything was just a big haze. Blackness dotted the edge of her vision, and it was mere seconds before she slumped limp and unconscious.

* * *

><p>"The <em>fun<em>?" The Doctor repeated with disgust. "The _fun_?"

"Yes. I'm quite enjoying this." Came the reply, a smirk accompanied.

Then the Doctor took the opportunity. It was now or never, he decided. Weak as he was, disabled as he was, he delivered a firm headbutt to the man's forehead, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The remaining guard in the room spun around, immediately turning on his escaping prisoner with a gun fixed directly ahead.

Then he whipped out his sonic and pressed firmly on the button. The weapon in his enemies hands sparked and combusted, sending him flying against the wall in a flurry of limbs and screams. No one had seen it, except the Doctor of course. No one had seen the sonic roll from Clara's pocket the moment she'd be forced into the room. And no one had noticed as the Doctor had tucked it safely behind himself, undoing his restraints at the precise last moment.

The short adrenaline rush was already fading. He couldn't rise to his feet. His back continued to stream a thick flow of blood down the course of his lower body, leaving him a hot sticky mess. His legs trembled with each failed attempt to stand, and his hands trembled as he dragged himself forward.

Still though, he managed. It took far longer than he would have liked to reach the weak, trembling girl, but once he did, he didn't waste another moment.

"Clara..." He cried, nails digging into the dirt beneath his palms. As he ran his eyes over her bloody figure, he felt a tear of his own slide down the length of his cheek. "Clara...I'm so sorry."

She lay on her back, a position the Doctor knew was rubbing dirt into her wounds and sending her subconscious the harshest of pains. He could tell by the way she shook, the way moans escaped her lips, and by the sight of all color drained from her face. With much difficulty and many grunts of his own, he managed to prop himself up against the wall and place his arms lightly under Clara's bare shoulders. She drew in a sharp intake of breath as he lifted her upper body off the ground, and pulled her close. He found her torn shirt in arms reach and place it under her back, then maneuvered her head until it rested in his lap.

Neither of them were fit to move just yet. She obviously couldn't walk on her own, and the Doctor could barely walk himself, let alone carry her all the way to where he had the TARDIS and key tucked safely away. So for now, he decided, they'd have to wait. As soon as a few of his natural, Gallifreyan-enhanced healing techniques kicked in, he was pretty sure he'd manage to get them both to safety.

"You're breakin' the rule..." The words were barely noticeable. Barely distinguishable from the way they all slurred together. The Doctor looked down at Clara's pain contorted face to see her eyes slightly fluttering open.

"What rule?" He asked softly, quietly, doing everything he can to keep her in a comforting environment.

"The...the touching one." She laughed weakly. "You never do that."

It was a bit intimate, he decided, by his standards at least. The way he had her head cradled in his lap, the way he had his fingers laced with hers. He hadn't even noticed the latter bit, actually. He supposed that, even in a later regeneration, the action still tended to come as a reflex when someone he cared about needed him.

"Well I'm doing it now." He said simply, voice low to mask the still lingering pain. He could feel her tensing, unable to relax due to the persisting pain that refused to show mercy. Later, if she even remembered this, he already planned to use the excuse that both of them were injured and not in their right minds before doing what he did next. Letting his hand hover over her face for a moment, he dropped it to rest atop her head, and began slowly running his fingers through her hair.

He couldn't hold back a little smile as he felt her muscles relax a bit beneath his touch. His Clara. Still so susceptible to affection.

Her eyes fluttered closed out of a sudden relief sweeping through her, and she muttered one last, barely coherent sentence before drifting off again. "You should break it more often."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well that was heartbreaking to write. **


	40. Chemicals

_**Chemicals (Dark Water AU)**_

**Prompt: TheBigCat**

_You know how in Dark Water, after the Doctor takes the deam patch off her, he scans her and mutters that her bloodstream is full of chemicals?Well, that got me thinking. Clara seemed way too calm all through the sequence. What if she had been takng some sort of addictive chemical to deal with the grief? That's my headcanon, anyway. Please do somehing with this! Hurt/comfort (note the comfort bit) preferably._

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

**Note: I'm so sorry I'm taking longer and longer to update. Had friends over for Thanksgiving, and that and _December Domestics _combined is making updating a chore. Its probably going to be just one or two posts a week from now on, if even that.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Yeah, you're quite the mess of chemicals, aren't you?" The sonic screwdriver pulsated its green emitter as the Doctor swept it in front of Clara from head to toe. His face contorted into a deep frown as he repeated the action, clarifying what he already knew. He read the results once more, then threw the objects aside with a bit more force than necessary.<p>

Clara knew that he knew. How could he not at this point, after all? There was no hiding it. There was no hiding what she'd done. But she'd been desperate. He could hardly blame her, right?

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He demanded loudly, hands bunching into fists accompanied by a disappointed scowl. His eyes bore directly into Clara's, until the gaze was broken when his eyelids fluttered closed and he lowered his head. "What the _hell _were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that my boyfriend just got hit by a car, and I'd rather do something to keep myself from sobbing to death!" She bit back. "Maybe if you'd been there for me then it wouldn't have happened."

"Clara..." The Doctor sighed, throwing his head back and turning a slow, indecisive circle. "No. No, you can't do this."

"Well, I already did." She muttered, crossing her arms and looking up at him with sad, yet so very much stubborn eyes.

"How many?"

"Two or three a day."

"For how long?!" He pressed.

"Whenever the last time was that I saw you." She blinked. "So about a week."

The relief on his face was in some way very overwhelming. Clara found herself blinking back tears, fighting the building pressure behind her eyes. There was a light tremor in her hands, and she felt her legs growing weak. What did she do wrong?

"Do you promise me?" The Doctor shot forward, gripping her shoulders and hunching over slightly so that his eyes met hers. "Clara, do you swear to me that you didn't take anymore?"

"Y-yes." She stammered. "That's all."

His eyes closed and he took a step back. Then all the remorse came to an end. "Hand them over."

"I don't have anymore." She assured.

"Don't lie to me!" He shouted, taking a single stomp forward, then relaxing again and muttering a short apology as he saw her flinch. "Don't lie to me." He repeated, a bit softer. "I know you. And I know that you have more. Those aren't even meant for human consumption, Clara...how did you even get a hold of-" he broke off. "Never mind." He shook his head. "Just hand them over."

She looked like she was about to protest again. About to insist she had no more, or attempt to convince them that what she had left was needed. But Clara just sighed and reached into her back pocket, then handed him the little glass bottle of pills.

The Doctor snatched them from her grasp and slammed the container into the edge of the console, sending glass pieces flying and each tiny pill spilling between the holes in the grating of the floor. Clara gasped and took a few steps back, wiping away the wetness she felt sliding down her cheek.

"Now." He cleared his throat and straightened. "I could yell at you for stealing from me, twice now actually, but I know it won't do any good."

Nothing but silence filled the room after that. Neither resident of the TARDIS met the others gaze. Clara shifted uncomfortably, while the Doctor stood his ground. Neither knew what to say. Neither knew how to act. So they just stood there, ungratefully accepting the loud silence.

The pressure behind Clara's eyes only seemed to build. But she refused to cry anymore. She couldn't. She _shouldn't. _Weakness and emotion was never an option for her before. At least not in the presence of other people. So why should that rule be broken now? It shouldn't. That was all there was to it. She wasn't weak. She was human, and she was flawed, but she was _not _weak. She could be strong. She could overcome herself. Couldn't she?

But the next tear that slid down her face said otherwise. Clara found herself with her head lowered, palm pressed over her mouth, legs wobbly as her shoulders shook with each sob that wracked her entire being. She turned away, trying to spare any amount of dignity she still held by keeping her face shielded from sight. She considered apologizing. She knew what she'd done wrong, of course. She stole from him multiple times, she'd threatened him, she'd yelled at him, she'd _betrayed_ him. She began sinking to the floor, landing on her knees with a thump and pressing her forehead to the metal grating. Weak. That's what she was. She was weak. Most definitely weak, and there was nothing to be done about it.

She'd been a horrible friend. A horrible companion. A horrible _person _in general. She let him down.

So why was she now feeling a freezing cold hand slowly close itself around hers?

Clara lifted her head off the ground to see the Doctor crouched before her. His icy eyes and thick brow bore right into her gaze, but what she found there was sadness. Not anger. At the first quizzical expression she made, he sat himself cross-legged on the floor across from her, gripping her hand a little tighter.

"I don't blame you."

"W-what?" She stammered, choking sobs still betraying her attempt at strength.

"For any of it." He told her. "I don't blame you. You lost someone you loved." He looked away, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. "Love makes people to crazy things."

The sight of him there. The sight of his face, so full of emotion. The sight of his hand, tight in hers, as if there'd been no previous distance between the two. The sight of his _arms, _which were slowly extending in her direction. "It's okay to cry." He told her, voice low.

Clara practically collapsed forward onto his chest, allowed his strong hands to hold her up and press her close to him. The undying weeping continued to plague, but she no longer made any attempt to cease. Besides, she wasn't the only one breaking a rule.


	41. Scotch Tape

_**Scotch Tape  
><strong>_

**Prompt: Spydur1**

_After the teases we get from the latest episode (Flatlines), i'd like to see a proper giant Clara, tiny Doctor fic. One where he is hurt, needing help, and she has to help (giant Clara) actually picking him up and stuff when he is Little._

**~The next day~**

_Oopsie! I was a teensy bit drunk and overexcited when I sent this. So, ignore most of my ramblings. Basically prompt is: Tiny twelfth Doctor, big Clara. :)_

**Note: Couldn't resist. That made my day xD**

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

* * *

><p>"Do you have to walk so roughly?"<p>

"Oi, I'm trying my best here!"

"Honestly, Clara, you could at least walk a bit slower."

"Any slower, Doctor, and we'll be gettin' some funny looks. Now suck it up, stay still, _shut_ _up_."

Clara cast wary glances all around her as she trekked her way through the streets of London. She had her left hand curled into a half-fist, pressing against her side, other hand rested lightly atop. She looked down slightly as she spoke to the tiny man she had concealed in her grasp. "You just _had _to go and get yourself shrunk."

"It's not my fault!" He defended, undersized vocal chords causing him to have to speak considerable louder than normal.

The two had just returned from their basic battle on an alien planet. Nothing too exciting, really. They ran from here to there, tranquilized a couple lizards, the usual. Until the Doctor had decided to provoke one of the leaders of the tribe they were conflicting with and, well, the rest of the story was pretty self explanatory.

He'd been shrunk.

"You're the one that made fun of his tail!"

"It was far too pointy for my liking." The miniature Doctor argued, crossing the little twigs he had for arms and wincing at the turbulence of his unfortunate ride.

Now, the two were simply trying to survive the walk to Clara's flat, where the TARDIS was waiting. A quick teleportation from a more friendly lizard back on that planet had settled their transportation issues.

But they still had many more to face.

"Clara." He complained as his head whacked hard against her thumb. "Clara, slow down."

"Stop the whinin'. We're almost there." She gripped him a little tighter in attempt to steady the turbulence, but loosened again when he let out a sharp hiss of pain.

"Dammit, Clara." He groaned, wrapping an arm around his side and doubling over slightly. Clara muttered a quick apology and smoothed her pace when the flat building came into sight.

The lift was down, so she was stuck with the stairs. This was quite unfortunate on the Doctor's end as the turbulence was once again enhanced, and by the time Clara stepped into her small home the Doctor was curled up in her palm, breathing shallowly.

"You all right?" She asked worriedly, carefully lowering him to the the coffee table, keeping her fingertips against his arm in case he toppled over.

He managed to steady himself on his feet, but his eyes were still squeezed tightly shut and he arms were clasped around his middle. "Think you fractured a couple ribs."

"Stop being so dramatic." Clara scolded, getting to her knees and lowering herself at eye level with him. "So how do we make you big again?"

"Clara, I'm serious. I have three fractured ribs, thanks to you."

"We should probably wrap them, then." She said, tone mocking. "Should I get the Scotch Tape?" But the Doctor wasn't joking around anymore, and Clara could see that. Small or not, he was actually, properly hurt. And it was her fault. "All right, I'm sorry." She muttered. "What can I do? How do we make you big again?"

"You have the sonic, don't you?" He rasped out.

"No..."

"Clara!"

"I'm just kidding." She scoffed, retrieving the device from her back pocket. "'Course I do."

"Setting 16c." He ordered quietly, leaning over on an empty coffee mug. "But don't do it yet-"

Too late. Clara was already pressing the button aiming the light in the Doctor's direction, and his size began to escalate.

"Agh!" He grunted, toppling off the table and landing face first into the floor. He groaned miserably, curling up on himself and pressing his forehead into the carpet. "I said...not yet."

"Sorry!" She exclaimed worriedly, throwing herself to her knees at his side and putting a hand on his shoulder. "You all right? What can I do?" The Doctor didn't reply, just closed his eyes. "Come on. Can you stand up?" Her voice lowered a notch, and the Doctor managed a slight nod, allowing her to grip his arms and help him into a sort of standing position.

"Ow." He hissed, shooting her a glare.

Clara gripped the hem of his jumper and slid it upwards to reveal his thoroughly reddened and bruised side, wincing just as much as he was. "Ow indeed." She frowned, lowering his shirt again and grasping his hand for support. "Come on. Let's get into the TARDIS. This should hopefully be easy to fix now that you're big again."

The Doctor hesitated. "No Scotch Tape."

"Hey, it might work though!" She pointed out with a little laugh. "Why bandages when you can use just a bit of tape to patch yourself up?"

"Because it just doesn't work like that, Clara."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Can't say that I have, no."

Clara smirked as she lead him through the doors. "First time for everything!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope that was okay :3 Might not have been what you were looking for, but it was honestly the best I could do unfortunately. This one gave me a bit of trouble. Not a clue why, some prompts are just like that for me.  
><strong>

**Alright. I'm home alone all weekened with nothing to do, so hopefully I'll get in a couple more updates. Hopefully. _Maybe. _**


	42. I'm the Boss

_**I'm the Boss**_

**Prompt: wibbly-wobbly stuff**

_An alternate fluffy ending to 'The Crimson Horror' because I haven't seen any alternate ending for that episode_

**Note: I know you had a couple other prompts thrown in too, but I'm gonna end up doing just this one if that's alright. I'm still working on a huge pending list, and I'm getting just a bit overwhelmed :)**

**Note: Forgive my possibly very much OOC 11. I write more 12 than 11 these days, and I've not seen any episodes with him in a while, so I'm a tad out of practice.**

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K**

* * *

><p>"You're <em>not <em>the boss." The Doctor felt the need to clarify as he stormed inside the TARDIS, flinging his hat onto the console and shrugging off the Victorian-era jacket. Clara was already changed out of her 'old times' wear, dressed in a comfortable dark blue dress with a flowing purple cardigan dangling from her shoulders.

"Too late for that, Doctor." She said with a smirk, leaning against the edge of the console and absentmindedly flipping a couple switches she knew were unimportant.

"Clara Oswald, you are not the boss." He reiterated with a shadow of a scowl, messing with the controls and sending the ship lurching back into space. "Are you the one with the time traveling box? No, I don't think you are!"

When the TARDIS steadied, Clara raised her hands slightly and quirked an eyebrow. "I'm just goin' off of what you said, is all."

"Rule number one, remember?" He hissed, waggling a finger in front of his face. "The Doctor lies."

"Nah, not this time, I don't think." She chuckled, crossing her arms. "Admit it."

The Doctor didn't reply, just set the coordinates for 21st Century London with a faded frown. "Home?" He clarified, taken by considerable surprise when she refused.

"Nah. Think I'll crash here tonight, actually." She shrugged.

"And what makes you so sure I'd be alright with that, eh? Not like I've just got spare bedroom upon spare bedroom on board! Well, I do actually," He said, considering. "But it'd be nice if you'd ask first!"

"Fine then. Can I stay?"

"No."

"Doctor." She shot him a warning glare.

"Yes, fine, you can stay." His words were only half reluctant, and he never worked up from his pointless fiddling with the console controls. "First door on the left. East corridor."

"Thank you!" She squealed excitedly, skipping off in the commanded direction. "Hey, Doctor." She called back after a moment, peeking her head around the corridor.

"What?"

"I'm the boss."

* * *

><p>It was the most comfortable bed she'd <em>ever <em>slept in.

When Clara awoke the next morning, she felt like she was floating. It was almost as if there was no solidity beneath her. The mattress was so soft and soothing that it was almost outside of existence.

She didn't want to go home. Not yet, at least. She didn't even want to get out of bed, let alone go back to her boring life at home. No, she wasn't planning on getting up for a long while.

But apparently, the Doctor had other plans.

"Wakey, wakey!" As soon as Clara's eyes had closed again, the Doctor was poking her side and and shouting in her face. "You humans and your sleep cycles! I'll never understand you! Come on, Clara, time to go! I've got the greatest thing to show you."

"Later." She rolled onto her stomach, muttering into her pillow.

"You can't lay there all day!" He complained, pouting, pressing his hands against the edge of the bed. "Get up, you."

Her mind raced, desperately trying to come up with some sort of excuse to stay in bed, but all she managed was, "No."

"Why? What is it? What's wrong?" He panted, eyes widening in the consideration that something might actually be wrong. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sick." She said as her last resort, closing her eyes and hoping it'd be enough for him to let her sleep for just a few more hours.

"No you're not!" The Doctor protested, nonexistent eyebrows raising and hands placed against his hips. "You're perfectly fine. Come on." He gripped her shoulder and rolled her onto her back, ignoring her protests. "Up you come!" He started tugging lightly on her wrist, hoping he wouldn't actually have to settle for dragging her out of bed.

"But I'm so tired." She complained, breaking free and burying her head beneath the blankets. "And this thing is so comfortable."

"That it is. Softest mattress in the universe, salvaged from the planet Finfocci." He excalimed, smirking proudly at his own cleverness. "Although, not to be confused with the Vinvocci. Never sleep on their mattresses." He shuddered. "_Never._"

Clara's head emerged from the mass of blankets and she quirked an eyebrow in suspicion. "Let's just say, never compliment a Vinvocci's skin. Things escalated a _bit _quickly." A blush tinted his cheeks and he rubbed his neck awkwardly, shaking his head after a few moments of a disgusted expression plastered onto his face and bringing himself back to the present. "Regardless, you can't waste away the whole day in bed like this!"

"And why's that?" She whined, mocking his voice.

"Because I'll be bored just sitting around waiting for you to get your lazy self up and about!" He cried, with a frown.

Clara realized after a moment of consideration that there was only one way they'd both somewhat win. With a little sigh she budged over, lifting the covers invitingly. "Come on, then."

"What?"

"You're bored without me, I don't want to get out of bed, so this is a compromise, yeah?" She groaned. "Doctor, I'm not getting up, so either crawl on in or get on out."

"But _Clara_..." His voice lowered a full octave, almost a whisper. "That's not appropriate."

"Suit yourself." She turned back over, settling herself back into the deep mass of pillows, and willed him to make up his mind. Before she heard it, she heard a little defeated sigh, and felt pressure on the edge of the bed. She didn't mean to smile, but she did, and wholeheartedly welcomed him as he laid down beside her. "Look at you." She chuckled, turning back over to face him. "You're _so _bored without me out there that _this _is a better option?"

He didn't reply, just looked away with a deep blush and turned on his side.

"Well if it means anything," She propped herself up on one elbow, planting a small kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you're staying."

He stiffened for a full second, but soon after found himself relaxing a smidge... Just a smidge. "Get some more sleep." He said softly, undeniably anxious to get up and running again, but not as restless as he was before. He found himself tilting his head to face her, smiling, admiring the grin she returned as she settled herself against his side. Their hands found each other under the bed sheets, the sides of their heads touched, and both companions began sinking into a welcomed oblivion.

"Doctor..." Clara whispered, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"Hmm?" He muttered in reply, over half aware.

Even in her state of hardly existent coherence, she mumbled, "I'm the boss."


	43. Are We Done Yet?

_**Are We Done Yet?**_

**Prompt: (Guest) Youshallnotpass**

_Clara gets a cut or something on her torso and its not that bad but the doctor (11 please) makes her take off her shirt to help her and she feels all awkward about it_

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T  
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><p>"Clara! Get back!"<p>

"What do they even want?!"

"How should I know?! When do I ever know!?"

Then unfortunately well trained group of three medieval soldiers continued to strut forward, swords at arms and waving threateningly dangerously close to the Doctor and Clara. The Doctor withdrew his own sword, raising his bald brow proudly and jabbing it forward with the skill of a child.

"You can't fight off three people!" Clara shouted over the sound of metal clanking as the Doctor aimlessly attempted to fend them off. "We need to run!"

"Right, yes, okay." Still though, he continued, grabbing Clara's hand with his free one and maneuvering her behind him. Each time his blade came in contact with an enemy, its true abilities were disabled by coming in contact with the strong armor. "Hold on! I've got this!" He ducked just in time before a blow could be delivered to his head. "Okay, maybe not."

"Run?"

He squeezed her hand. "Run."

But before they even had a chance to turn around, one of the agile soldiers shot forward in Clara's direction, slicing his blade directly across her torso. She sucked in a sharp breath of pain and gripped her side, stumbling backward slightly, but allowed the Doctor to tow her backwards and begin fleeing the action. "We've got to go!" He insisted, keeping his pace slow until Clara managed to reach her full speed.

Their pursuers were close at their heels, swords swinging recklessly and throats emitting threatening howls.

"Hurry up!" The Doctor commanded, dragging Clara along behind him and giving a short "Ha!" of victory as the TARDIS came into sight. "Get in!"

Clara let out a sigh of relief once they were safely inside the security of the box. "Who even were those men?" She questioned, still gripping her side, leaning against the console.

"Not a clue. Don't have a clue most of the time. Not my favorite thing to not have a clue about, who's trying to kill us and all. But hey! That's half the fun sometimes!" He laughed with his own unspoken relief, wiping his hands on his trousers before sending them flying safely away from the location. "You alright?" He asked suddenly, catching sight of Clara's slightly hunched over form and her hand gripping the fabric of her blouse.

"Yeah. Just a scratch." She promised, smiling encouragingly and letting her hand fall back to her side. She regretted it though as soon as she saw the Doctor's eyes widen, catching sight of the blood soaking through her shirt. "Ah." She muttered, laughing a bit. "Not as bad as it looks, I promise."

The Doctor just shook his head disbelievingly and yanked up the hem of her shirt, leaning forward a bit to examine the wound.

"Hey!" She attempted to bat his hand away, but he remained in place. "Doctor, seriously. Its fine."

"Looks like it hurts." He acknowledged with a frown.

"Well, yeah, it stings a bit. But I did just kind of get sliced at by a sword, so..." She sighed. "Put my shirt down. I'm fine."

He complied, only to grab her hand in turn and start tugging her down the corridor. "Here we are!" He exclaimed excitedly as they entered the medical bay. He pointed to an exam table at the far end. "Hop up there. I'll just be a second."

"No." Clara crossed her arms stubbornly. "I can take care of myself. Honestly, its just a little cut."

"No matter. Still want to get you patched up." He smiled when she finally complied, but she was shifting uncomfortably.

Clara crossed and uncrossed her ankles and swung her feet back and forth. Her hands fiddled with each other in her lap, and her expression grew cautious when the Doctor called over his shoulder.

"Go on and take your shirt off. I'll be over there in a second."

"_Excuse me_?"

"Quick as you like." He said again, so casually it was slightly chilling. When he twisted around to see she hadn't budged, he frowned. "Shirt. Off. Now." He scolded.

"No." She huffed, shaking her head. "No!"

"Clara!" The Doctor returned with a few supplies in hand, eyes widening. "I need to see the extent of the injury."

"I'll lift it up, but that's as far as I'm going. Not taking it off." Her gaze was hardened. Determined. She felt her cheeks heat slightly, and expected the Doctor's to do the same. After all, things like this usually made him exceptionally awkward. But his face remained its usual pale tone. Maybe he was just oblivious.

"But your hands would get in the way and-" He sighed, dragging his hand down the length of his face. "It'll just make it easier. Please?"

Clara was still hesitant. Despite her little innuendos and comments she delivered, she considered herself one to cherish her modesty. She felt a bit indignant complying, but knew he was only concerned and acting irrationally.

"Fine." She finally mumbled, lifting the top up and over her head, settling it in her lap, and crouching slightly in discomfort.

Still, the Doctor seemed completely unfazed. Clara shuddered under his cool touch as his fingers brushed over her torso, carefully examining the shallow cut. "Not bad." He acknowledge with a satisfied nod.

"Just hurry up before I hit you."

"Well well." He scoffed, scrunching up his nose in distaste for her tone. "No need to be rude."

She felt the almost uncontrollable urge to cover herself with her arms. She sighed, willing his hands to cease their movement and return her dignity. "Almost done?" She asked after a moment. The bleeding had long since stopped, and the pain had ebbed. She was fine. He was done wasn't he?.

"Just about." He promised, fixing a gauze patch in place before finally taking a step back to admire his handiwork. "There we go! Good as new!"

Clara burned under his gaze. "Now can I put my shirt on?" She asked, reaching for it with a hopeful glance in his direction.

"Not quite yet."

"_What_?"

"It could irritate the patch." He frowned. "Special healing patch, that is! Have your skin unblemished in an hour flat. But no excessive contact can come with the outside, so leave your shirt off for a bit.

"Doctor, I'm not walkin' around this place topless for an hour!"

"Fine." He sighed. "Thirty minutes at least."

She knew that any attempts at arguing would be futile, so just slid off the table with a reluctant slump of her shoulders. As long as she could hide away in her bedroom, she guessed it wasn't all bad. "Whatever." But as she began to walk away, the Doctor snatched her wrist, and she shot him a quizzical look.

"Stay in here for a bit. The air is laced with microscopic nanogenes and will speed up with process a bit." He grinned ear to ear. "Its all right, though! I'll be in here to keep you company." He exclaimed, placing his hand on her bare shoulder as a friendly gesture as he walked past, then shot a glance back. "Oh, stop your moaning. You'll be fine."


	44. Overcome

_**Overcome**_

**Prompt: Wheezzy 8**

_Could you do a one shot where the Doctor develops PTSD after he visits a particular shocking war torn planet and Clara must care for him?_

**Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: T**

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><p>The similarity was so intense... so realistic... so unbelievable that the Doctor briefly wondered if it was all just another nightmare.<p>

But no. This was far too real. He could feel the smoke billowing onto his face, smell the tang of long deceased bodies littering the field, _feel _the atmosphere of dying, terrified soldiers.

It was so similar. He'd only known of one other planet besides his own that had duel suns, and that just happened to be where they had ended up. The sky was a burning orange, the air dry and thick with heat. The only visible difference from where he was standing was the color of the grass. Dark, yet pale green. Not bronze.

But still. It was just too similar.

He'd fought on the front line. He'd seen war, he'd seen conflict. He'd seen children screaming and running to their mothers, only to be shot down by the ruthless forces their fathers were trying to desperately to fend off. He'd seen blood and gore. He'd seen terror and loss of hope. And he'd lived with it. It had been a chore, of course. A burden to live with, knowing that he had been the only one to escape. Nightmares had haunted him for centuries, but eventually, managed to fade.

But now... it was as if no time had passed at all. As he stared at the sight before him, the disassembled bodies, the blood staining the previously beautiful grass, and the terrified soldiers and children alike fleeing to safety... all the memories of the Time War came flooding back.

Clara was calling him from behind, but he hardly heard her. He could detect the worry and unease in her voice, but it was to be expected of course. As soon as he heard her footsteps growing closer, he slammed the TARDIS doors, blocking her off from a sight that her brain would never let her forget.

"Doctor! Doctor talk to me." Her words were distinguishable now, but the Doctor still felt frozen to the spot. Gallifrey. It was just like it had been on Gallifrey. "You're alright. Step away from the doors. Talk to me. Doctor!" He shook his head in attempt to clear it, feeling his balance a bit unsteady for a moment. He felt a soft, warm hand grip his, tugging him backwards and gently turning him around. Soon, he was looking straight into the concerned eyes of Clara Oswald, and he managed the faintest smile.

"Sorry." His voice was oddly husky, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head vigorously once again. He gave Clara's hand a comforting squeeze, letting her know he was alright in the only way he could think of without using words. Because she knew him far too well. She'd see right through any lie that came out of his mouth, but he couldn't let that happen. He wasn't alright. He felt like he was straight out of the Time War, just as battle scarred both physically and mentally as he'd been back then.

"What happened?" She asked, voice light, soft, and worried. "What's out there?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." He replied hastily, bringing his suddenly hazing eyes away from hers and letting out a shaky breath. "TARDIS needs to rest for a bit." He lied, shifting his way to the control panel to send them back into the peaceful safety of the vortex. "Can't take you home just yet." If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to bring her back. At least not now. He felt a bit safer with her presence for a reason he wasn't really aware of.

"That's fine." She assured him, still eying him with concern as she joined him up by the console. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm always alright." He promised with a faked smile, brushing his fingers across her cheek comfortingly before retreating to the corridor.

* * *

><p>After that day, his progress went nowhere but downhill.<p>

The Doctor woke up every single night, sometimes multiple times, screaming and crying. His memories still haunted him with flashbacks from his time on the front line. He saw it all on repeat. The death. The destruction. The terror. The _suffering. _Each time he'd wake up still thinking he was at war. Still ready to ward off an attack that could come from anywhere.

And each time, Clara was there. Holding his hand, stroking his sweat soaked hair, and coaxing him back to sleep.

Clara spent the next several weeks on the TARDIS. It had been a few days before the Doctor had finally offered to take her home, and didn't even seem to register her words when she'd stated that she wanted to stay. She was glad she had, too. The Doctor just wasn't right. He wasn't strong anymore. She had the hardest time getting any information out of him before he'd just shut her down completely and walk away. He slept more often than he used to, or at least he claimed he did. Clara knew that most of the time in his bedroom, though, was spent staring up at the ceiling, trying to dull the ringing trauma, and occasionally shedding a single tear.

On top of what was already different, after a while he didn't even bother hiding the weakness anymore. He gratefully accepted the comfort she offered during his night terrors, he even allowed her to stay in his room with him some nights. Soon, it wasn't even an allowance. It was a request.

Clara managed to do her bit of studying up on PTSD when she wasn't looking after him. All the signs he was showing led up to the same thing. Along with her research, everything that she read came to the same conclusion. It simply took time to heal.

For some people, she heard, they never healed. Their lives were constantly haunted by the memories until the day they died. The Doctor was different though, she knew. He was strong, even when he was weak. This was just a wobble, like many other things he faced. But no matter how long it took, she had faith that he'd overcome it.


	45. Do As You Are Told

_**Do As You Are Told**_

**Prompt: Emsgotabox**

_Can you do a fic about clara get hurt and 12 has a to protect/comfort her please_

**Characters: 12th Doctor, Clara O.**

**Rating: K+**

**Note: I know I wrote something very much similar to this a few chapters back, but I have a love for fires for some reason d: I couldn't resist. **

**This is the last chapter. Hope it turns out okay.  
><strong>

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><p>The explosion had been inevitable. He knew that. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it once he'd discovered the unavoidable. Not in that short period of time. Of course he couldn't have done anything.<p>

So why was he still feeling so guilty?

He'd gotten everyone out, hadn't he? He'd had just enough time for that, at least. Right before the entire building had gone up in flames.

Women and children. Men and elderly. He and Clara had gotten _everyone _out.

The Doctor walked a few circles around the premises, using one of his many skills to do a quick, swift head count. He was right. _Everyone _was out.

His mind was still racing, contemplating constantly on what he was unaware of. Like he'd left the kettle on. Like there was something he had to get back to... something oh so important that he'd forgotten. But if it was so important, why couldn't he remember? Can't have been too serious, then, for him to not even be instantly aware of whatever was in the back of his mind.

The Doctor froze in his tracks. Like he'd stepped in deep cement that had glued his shoes in place. He willed them to move, but he simply couldn't.

Because he remembered what it was. Oh, what a stupid, thick, idiotic old man he was. He'd gotten everyone out.

Everyone out.

Except who was the most important.

Clara was still inside.

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><p>She'd been separated from the Doctor for what seemed to be hours. At first they'd gone in together, hand in hand, desperately scowering the entire building for every innocent being that would be blown to bits if they weren't evacuated soon. He'd told Clara to stay outside, insisting that he could handle it all on his own. But of course, she'd refused. She'd never let him put himself in any kind of danger... at least not without her at his side.<p>

The Doctor had made it out in time. He'd gotten everyone out in time.

Everyone except her.

She didn't regret the decision to join him even now. She'd never leave him to do such a thing on his own. If she was going to die, at least she'd managed to save a few lives first.

To Clara's considerable surprise, she hadn't lost consciousness when the building finally went up in flames. She thanked every god she didn't believe in for her luck in finding the weakest point of the impact. She was on the brink, she had to admit. Her entire body ached with the many burns on her flesh, and her head pounded while her vision swarmed. Each attempt to rise to her feet only resulted in a pained gasp and the buckling of her knees once again.

She attempted to call out, but her breath hitched with a coughing fit every time she even opened her mouth. Clara managed to drag herself back over to the center of the room she was in, where the flames seemed a bit less intimidating. But they were closing in fast, and she couldn't even stand. She wasn't going to make it out.

"Clara!"

And then there it was. The voice that tore down, completely ripped away her worries every time it fell upon her ears.

The voice that told her she was safe.

The hand that was slowly extending towards her.

And the encouraging smile he gave when she caught hold.

"I've got you. Come on. We need to hurry." The Doctor promised, gripping her hand in both of his and pulling her to him. He frowned with his already increasing worry when she let out a hiss of pain, stumbling forward and nearly falling before he caught her with strong arms.

Clara whimpered involuntarily and allowed him to help her stand, one arm around her waist and one hand on her shoulder. "Come on!" The Doctor shouted when he heard creaking in the near distance.

He practically dragged her onwards. Clara could barely see through the smoke, and her already blurred vision combined made it impossible to navigate without his assistance. "Doctor." She coughed out, stumbling even more.

"We have to hurry!" He howled over the deafening crackle surrounding the blazing surrounds. "Clara!" He howled when she began slipping from her grasp. "Okay. Its okay. I've got you. Hang in there, you stubborn girl." He managed to mutter into her ear as he lifted her into his arms, own pace quickening when her head lulled sideways as unconsciousness finally claimed her.

And so he ran. Clara was considerably difficult to carry, with the obstacles in his way, his already aching muscles protesting against her weight, and his needless worry at what injuries of hers he may already be worsening. But he continued to run. Continued to dodge every falling piece of structure. Every rising bundle of flames. Then finally, he saw the outdoor light practically calling his name, and he burst through without a moment's hesitation.

He himself probably looked quite a state, coughing, face blackened, and a limp girl in his arms. But vanity was of course the last thing on his mind.

"Alright." He breathed out, shifting her weight in his arms and heading straight for the flicker of blue in the fairly near distance. "You're gonna be okay. Almost there." He promised, old bones creaking and muscles screaming to relieve the weight on his already weak form.

Time seemed to pass very slowly on the journey to the TARDIS, but once they were safely inside, the Doctor felt compelled and allowed to collapse to his knees and gently lower Clara to the floor. He kept his hand under her head, and used his free one to lightly tap her cheek, praying she'd rouse on her own. "Clara." He called hoarsely. "Clara!"

Her head moved slowly from side to side and her eyes moved rapidly beneath her lids. Her chest heaved as she attempted to breathe in a full intake of oxygen, but just ended up rolling on her side and coughing painfully.

"There we are." The Doctor laughed with the deepest relief, hand on her shoulder as he coaxed her out of her fit. "You're okay. Now. Listen up." Once he helped her sit , he kept one hand still on her back as he maneuvered himself until he could look her in the eye, hard scowl on his face. "Next time, do as you are told, and _stay outside._"

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><p><strong>AN: And that's a wrap!**

**Been at this since September. To be honest, I'm quite relieved that its over. I've enjoyed it the whole way, though :) Big thanks to all that have stuck with me since the beginning. **

**Now, I know there's probably quite the list of prompts that I overlooked. If so, feel free to PM them to me. I still accept one-shots in general, apart from this specific fic, so if you didn't get a chance to get yours in then just send it along at any time. I'll post it as a standalone one-shot as soon as I get the chance :) Check out my profile for more details on what I specifically accept. **


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